


Holy Hell

by all_my_dreams_and_ambitions



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angels, Bluesey - Freeform, Demons, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gangsey, Heaven, Hell, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Sex, Violence, Witchcraft, angel ronan, demon kavinsky, past ronan/kavinsky - Freeform, psychic adam, pynch - Freeform, trigger warning abuse, vampire henry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-03-07 01:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 81,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13423695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_my_dreams_and_ambitions/pseuds/all_my_dreams_and_ambitions
Summary: Henrietta is a sleepy college town. It's nestled between three ley lines, a beacon of strong energy that attracts all kinds of supernatural beings.Adam is a psychic. He's spent his entire life working to get out of the trailer park where he grew up and into a prestigious college. He's tired, broke, and about to be thrown the biggest twist in his life.Ronan is an angel that had thought he'd outrun his past...until he settled in Henrietta and met a blue-eyed boy that attended the local college there. History starts to repeat itself and Ronan learns that his demons are never far behind.Relationships are tested, friendships are questioned, and everything is about to be blown to holy hell.





	1. The Fever to be Great

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it's finally here! I know I've been talking about posting Holy Hell since before I finished LotSD and I'm excited to say that I have the first four chapters written!
> 
> I couldn't have done it without music-booksrlife (aka: lynchesparrrish) on tumblr. She helped me plot through this story and has encouraged me every step of the way. 
> 
> Check out the notes at the bottom for the song that inspired the title of this chapter!

        The sounds of the busy cafeteria blurred around him. _I’m just going to close my eyes for five minutes,_ he thought as he rested his cheek tiredly in his palm.

        It had been a long week. Between two jobs and his college classes, Adam felt like he was more exhausted than anything else. He just kept telling himself that with each passing day he was one step farther from his shitty old life back in the trailer park and a new life where he could sleep comfortably on a king-sized mattress.

        “What do you think, Adam?”

        His name falling off of Gansey’s lips forced him to open his eyes. Adam blinked rapidly, trying to make himself seem more awake than he actually felt. “I’m sorry,” he told his roommate, “what’d you say?”

        Gansey didn’t appear to be ruffled by this. Instead, he just smiled. “The Pig is in top form, right?”

        By top form, he meant that the car hadn’t broken down on the side of the road and Gansey hadn’t ruined another pair of chinos in an attempt to fix it, in two weeks.

        At first, Adam hadn't understood why Gansey had chosen this car, of all cars when he could have had a Cadillac or a Mercedes. The more time he spent with his roommate, Adam realized the car was a form of freedom for Gansey. He had chosen that car over any others because it was old, had a loud paint job, and had its failings.

        Blue raised an eyebrow at Adam over her plate.

        “Oh,” he said, “yeah. It’s been running great for the past two weeks. I think once we got that alternator figured out it eliminated a lot of the problems.”

        “Do you want to know what would eliminate some of your problems, Adam?” She asked. “If you actually got more than three hours a sleep every night. Look at you, you’re about to fall asleep in your macaroni.”

        "I get more than three hours of sleep," he said with a slight scowl.

        He knew his friends worried about him because he was spreading himself thin between work and school, but he had survived four years of high school working three jobs. He can survive college by working two.

        He was tired all of the time because he had a job at the local garage and second job at the Stop ‘n Shop. On top of that, going to school to be a doctor took a lot of mental prowess that Adam was fully capable of, even though it was exhausting.

        Blue gave him a skeptical look over her yogurt.

        “I’ve made it this far, haven’t I? I’m doing alright.”

        She just shrugged and finished what she wanted of her yogurt and passed the rest to Gansey.

        Adam was thankful that she didn’t argue with him anymore about it. It wouldn’t have been the first argument he would have had with Blue and it certainly wouldn’t have been the last. Adam’s pride and Blue’s bullheaded mentality often clashed. The longest they’d ever stayed mad at each other had been a handful of days.

        “Are you still having those strange dreams?” She asked.

        Adam nodded.

        For the past few weeks, he'd been having dreams in vivid detail. Sometimes, they meant he was having a psychic vision. Other times, they were just strangely vibrant dreams. Adam rarely dreamed of the future, but his dreams hadn't been in the present either. Almost always, they were set in the past. He'd dreamed of being a soldier in the civil war, of driving a mule-powered wagon down a rutted dirt trail and running through the jungle.

        As a psychic, he'd gotten pretty good at learning to decipher what his subconscious was telling him. This was so out of his league that he didn’t know what to do with it. Were they messages? Or were they just dreams?

        He didn’t know.

        “You should go talk to my mom and Calla,” Blue suggested. “Who knows psychic stuff better than psychics?”

        Adam had to admit, she had a point. At times like this, he really missed his old psychic mentor, Persephone. She had taught him everything he knew about his gift when he’d been in high school. She had even given him her tarot deck for readings.

        Before he’d sought help from her, between work and school, he’d always felt uncertain. With her lessons and honing his psychic abilities, Adam had gained confidence.

        Now, it wasn’t rare for him to sense the future. It happened while he was stocking shelves for work, the sense that somebody would be looking for a specific item. It happened while he walking to and from classes, an overwhelming sense of deja vu. It happened to him while he was working on his homework, a brief flash of him sitting at his desk and working on a different project completely.

        It was a gift that Adam didn’t talk about a lot. However, there were a few people on campus who had seen him reading his tarot cards over the lunch table or between classes. From time to time, he’d do a reading if another student asked him to. Occasionally, such readings resulted in money.

        Gansey set the empty yogurt cup down and asked, “you have Professor Weithman right?”

        Adam blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Yeah.”

        “I heard she’s brutal.”

        “She’s not bad,” he said, “she just has high expectations. I’m passing her class just fine.”

        This answer made his roommate smile. “Of course you are. You’re brilliant!”

        Adam’s college education and future dreams of becoming a doctor depended on maintaining an outstanding GPA. His scholarship required it. Without his scholarship, he couldn’t afford to go to school and there was no way he was going back to the trailer park where he’d grown up.

        “I’m having a psychic moment,” Blue said ominously as she picked up her tea. “Adam, you’re going to be late to class if you don’t get moving.”

        He looked at his watch and frowned. She was right. He hadn’t realized that much time had passed since sitting down.

        He got up and tapped his knuckles against Gansey’s. “I’ll see you after work tonight.”

        After dumping his tray, he made his way across campus to Meade Hall.

        Henrietta was a small college town in rural Virginia. All of the locals knew each other and the college students had no troubles getting themselves oriented with the only shopping in town (the Stop ‘n Shop) and the three gas stations.

        Blue was a local that had chosen to go to college here because it was close to home and she could keep her waitressing job at Nino’s.

        Henrietta also gave off a supernatural aura that Adam couldn’t ignore. When he’d asked Gansey about it, the other young man had said it was probably because of the ley lines. He said they were basically straight lines of energy across the globe and three of them just happened to surround the town. He’d told Adam around a mouthful of pizza, “basically it’s a beacon of energy.”

        Adam supposed he should really talk with Maura and Calla about his dreams. They were constantly in the back of his mind. The one he'd had the night before had been him in the jungle again. He'd been surrounded by gunfire and explosions. He had felt like he'd been there and it was irking him because moving into Henrietta to go to college had been the first time he'd ever even left his hometown.

Another thing that keeps bothering him about the dreams is that they’re reoccurring.

One of the many lessons Persephone had taught him before she had died was that patterns and recurrences weren’t to be ignored. There were no such things as coincidences. Which meant that the dreams weren’t coincidental.

As he pushed the door to Meade Hall open, Adam decided that the dreams didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was passing his Anatomy II class with flying colors.

He was three steps into the building when he felt the dizzying sense of deja vu. It was a familiar sensation that accompanied all of his psychic moments.

He smelled leather and gasoline. It was the scent of someone who hadn't been there yet but would be in the future.

Adam cataloged the scent and the moment in the back of his mind.

He saw intricate black lines and patterns. They flashed through his mind and moved across his vision. He had never seen them before and he doesn't know what they meant, but he took comfort in knowing that he would understand their significance eventually.

        He paused outside of the classroom door, one hand braced on the cool handle until the moment passed. He silently committed all of these details to memory and then hoisted his backpack up higher on his shoulders. He pushed open the door to the classroom and gave himself a wry smile.

  If only his visions would help him pass his classes.


	2. Been on This Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave kudos or comments on Chapter One! They mean so much to me! 
> 
> We're going to be on a schedule of updating every Sunday and Wednesday!

_He was walking through the overgrown field, a rifle over one shoulder and a string of dead rabbits off of the other. The summer sun had his grimy white shirt clinging to his skin and sweat dripping from his forehead; despite the fact, that his hat was shading him from the unrelenting sun._

_It had been a successful day hunting and his father would be pleased with his kills. His family would eat well for a few days and the fur would make a good lining for their clothes in the winter._

_The scent of the sun baking the earth filled his nose. It was a comforting smell that reminds him of being younger and chasing grasshoppers through the overgrown grass._

_Two ruts were carved into the dirt where the wagons and horses had frequented the trail. It was a path that would lead him right to his family’s farmhouse._

_As he stepped onto dusty road, he tripped over a log hiding in the underbrush. He fell with a quiet “oomph”. His father’s rifle clattered to the ground and the knees of his canvas pants rip along with the skin beneath them._

_He grabbed the rifle, intent on inspecting it for damage. His father would be furious if he cracked the butt of it. It had been his rifle during the War of Northern Aggression._

_Just as he’s about to climb to his feet, a pained groan sounded from the roadside. It was a terribly human sound._

_He moved to the side of the road to discover a man lying in the overgrown grass._

_He had dark curls spilled over his forehead and a surprisingly straight nose, but the rest of his features are indiscernible. The stranger was bloody and severely sunburned._

_He briefly contemplated leaving the stranger behind, but he knew this was a test from God. His lord was willing him to help the stranger._

_“You’re bleeding.”_

_The stranger groaned in response._

_“You can come back to my place if you want,” he offers. “My ma can take a look at you and try to fix ya. We have water and food. I’m sure you’re hungry.”_

_The other young man didn’t respond right away. He just let out another groan._

_He got down and draped the man’s arm over his shoulder._

_He ignored the stranger’s curses and walked slowly while the he limped beside him._

_“I shouldn’t stay in your house,” the young man grunted as they approached the dimly lit cabin._

_“Are you a robber?”_

_“No. I just shouldn’t stay at your house. The barn will be okay.”_

_He looked at the stranger with a furrowed brow. “Don’t you want my ma to look at your wounds? She could help, I swear.”_

_“I’ll be fine.”_

_Much to his dismay, he helped the stranger scale the rickety ladder into the hay mow. Once the stranger was settled he fetched him some water. He watched him guzzle it down greedily. “What did you say your name was again?”_

_The stranger looked at him, a slight smile touched his lips. “My name is--”_

 

* * *

 

            When Adam woke up he laid in bed for a solid five minutes. The dream had been _so_ real. He could still smell the scent of hay and manure in the air in the dorm room.

            He rolled on to his side and looked at the clock.

            Blue was right. He needed to talk to Calla and Maura about these dreams.

            Going at this time meant risking the hectic mornings at Fox Way, but it was the best time for him to go. Classes took up his mid-morning and afternoon, work took up his evenings and nights, and studying took up the few hours between work and sleep.

            Adam climbed out of bed, moving cautiously around the room as he dressed. Gansey was sleeping and if he woke him up, his roommate’s insomnia would force him to stay up for the rest of the morning.

            He grabbed the keys to his car, slung his backpack over his shoulders, and headed for the door. He paused as he passed Gansey’s bed.

            The other young man’s glasses sat askew on his face as he slept with a book about Norwegian artifacts pressed open against his chest.

Adam gently removed Gansey’s glasses and set them on the nightstand so they wouldn’t bend. Then, he continued on his way, gently shutting and locking the door behind him.  

* * *

 

            He knew he didn’t have to knock to gain entry into 300 Fox Way. He’d been friends with Blue long enough to know that the door was hardly ever locked and that the spare key was located under the purple frog lawn ornament guarding the stoop.

            Years of hiding the fact that he’d grown up in a trailer park had shaped him into a man of learned politeness and clipped vowels. He found himself knocking on the door anyway. He would have felt like he was overstepping his boundaries if he hadn’t.

            Maura opened it. She looked Adam up and down, “I had a feeling you’d be stopping by eventually.”

            “Psychic intuition?” Adam asked as he stepped inside.

            “A daughter that worries about her friends.”

            Adam nodded at that and followed her into the kitchen. He slid into an empty chair and Maura put a cup of tea in front of him. He accepted it with a murmured “thanks”.

            Somewhere in deeper in the bowels of the house, he could hear Orla shouting at Blue to hurry up in the bathroom.

            He took one sip of the tea and then set the mug down. He had no intentions of picking it up again. It smelled like fermented cheese (and not the fancy kind the Gansey’s had offered at one of their political rendezvous) and tasted only slightly better.

            Maura didn’t seem to notice or care that he’d stopped drinking it. Instead, she sat down in the chair across from him and leaned on the table. She didn’t say anything but studied him with knowing eyes, waiting for him to talk first.

            She reminded him of Persephone in that moment and Adam couldn’t help but feel the sharp pang of loss deep in his chest.

            When Adam had met Persephone for the first time, he’d been in the fifth grade. He hadn’t been old enough to walk home from school by himself and his father hadn’t gotten out of work early enough to get him. Persephone had offered to watch Adam for free and his parents had accepted.

            He’d been afraid of her at first; with her black eyes and pale hair, to look at her had been wildly off-putting and intimidating. But, the more time Adam had spent with her, the more he had come to know her as an aunt-like figure instead of just a babysitter.

            Eventually, he hadn’t needed to go to her house after school. Then, one day he decided to pay her a visit. She had told him that he had a gift and she could help him with it if he wanted her to. Adam had thought she was crazy and hadn’t gone back until the sense of deja vu accompanying his visions started to become overwhelming and he could no longer keep track of the future or the present.

            They’d grown close in the little bit of time he’d spent with her between school and work. She had taught him how to read tarot, to scribe, and to make sense of his visions.

            When she had died, Adam had felt a little lost for a while. Now, he knew he could go to Maura and Calla with any of his questions or problems.

            His dreams were definitely starting to become a problem.

            “So tell me about these dreams that you keep having,” Maura said as she slathered an unhealthy amount of butter on a blueberry bagel.

            Adam licked his lips and thought about them, his fingers brushing against his deaf ear absently. “Well,” he finally said, “it’s the same handful of dreams over and over again. They’re really vivid. The sights, the sounds, the smells, all seem like I’ve been there before...even if I haven’t.”

            She nodded, encouraging him to tell her more.

            “There’s no way I could have been at any of these places. One of them happens in the jungle like I’m living part of the Vietnam war. The dream I had last night had to have happened sometime in the late nineteenth century, after the Civil War. I feel like I was there, but I know there’s no way I could have been.”

            Maura studied him for a long, silent moment. Her eyes seemed to bore through his as she looked at him, as though she was staring at his soul. Finally, she sat back in her chair with a small “hmph”. “Time is very circular.”

            Time is circular? Those words didn’t really make sense to him. All he could think about was the face of a clock.

            “Ma’am?” He asked, puzzled.

            Calla came in, squeezing between Adam’s chair and a decorative potted plant as she made her way to the coffee pot. She raised a sharp eyebrow curiously in Maura’s direction but gave no other inclination as to wanting to learn more about the conversation.

            If Maura saw Calla’s look (and she probably did) she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she said, “you could have lived other lives before this one. That could by why you keep having the same vivid dreams of the past.”

            He tried to make sense of her words. Living more than one life? That didn’t make sense. How could somebody live more than one life? People died and they didn’t come back to life. It wasn’t possible!

            Adam frowned, a crease forming between his brows. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m afraid that I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

            “You know Gwenllian, right?”

            Of course Adam knew Gwenllian. She was one of the women inhabiting the house at Fox Way. She lived in the attic, hid random objects in her hair, and half of what she spoke came in the form of riddles made into a song. He’d hardly ever spoken to her and he made the point to avoid her whenever he was hanging out with Blue.

            “Yeah,” he replied.

            “She’s an old soul. She had lived multiple lives before this one.”

            “That’s probably why she’s bat-shit crazy,” Calla muttered as she replaced the coffee pot and turned around. She took a sip from her cracked blue mug and then held out her hand to Adam. “I could try to tell you if you’ve lived past lives before.”

           He stared at her hand, uncertainly. Her nails were painted blood red and they looked like they’d been used to pull someone’s still-beating heart from their chest.

            “Do you want to know or not?” She growled impatiently. “You’re going to make me late for work.”

            He did. He wanted to know.

            At first, he hadn’t been sure. What if all of his past lives had been just as shitty as this one? What if he was doomed to live in an endless cycle of shitty lives?

            Still, if letting Calla see into the past would help him figure out his recurrent dreams, he would do it. Maybe they’d stop if he figured them out.

            Cautiously, he held out his hand.

            She snatched it up, gripping it tightly.

            It was weird having his past read by Calla. He half-expected for there to be some sort of tingling, some sort of electricity running through his body, or some kind of sign that let him know it was actually working. Instead, all he felt was the softness of her hands against his work-roughened palm.

            She dropped it and returned to her coffee. “He’s lived past lives, alright. This definitely isn’t his first time here.”

            “How many?” He asked.

            “At least two.”

            He frowned into his tea mug. “Why? Why do people just keep getting reborn...or whatever? Why can’t they just stay dead?”

            Maura shrugged, “nobody really knows the answer to that. Some believe that old souls keep being reborn until they fulfill their destiny.”

_Destiny_ was such a weighty word. It made it sound like there was some sort of unbeatable quest ahead of him and he didn’t like it.

            “Sometimes,” she added, “it’s just not the right time for someone to fulfill it. So, they’re reborn again and again until it is.”

            Adam’s fingers traced the smooth woodgrain of the kitchen table pensively. What Maura had said, made him think of the day that Persephone had given him her tarot cards.

_“Aren’t you going to need them?”_ He had asked.

_“I won’t be needing them anymore,”_ she replied. _“After all of this time, I can finally stop searching.”_

            At the time, Adam hadn’t known what she had meant. Sitting in the kitchen, however, what she had said finally made sense.

            “Persephone gave me her tarot cards the night she died,” he told the women. “She had told me she wouldn’t be needing them anymore. She said she could finally stop searching.”

            Maura smiled gently. “It sounds like she lived multiple lives.”

            “It doesn’t sound like she’s going to come back.”

            “No.”

            “So, what was her destiny?”

            She gave him a look that told him he should have been able to figure it out himself. “It sounds like her destiny was to start you on your psychic journey.”

            Adam slouched back in his chair, his limbs feeling a little too heavy.

            None of this made sense to him. He had lived his entire life feeling small and insignificant because of his abusive and neglectful parents. He’d had nothing growing up. He had thought he’d amount to nothing. Persephone’s destiny had been to help _him_ , a nobody.

            It was mind-boggling.

            “What are you guys talking about?” Blue asked, entering the kitchen. She carefully squeezed between her mother and the fridge before opening a cup of yogurt and sitting down. “Are you allowed to talk about it or is it super-secret-psychic-stuff?”

            “I just found out I’m an old soul,” he told her.

            “What’s that?”

            He filled her in on everything from the fact that his dreams could be visions of his past lives, to the fact that Persephone had been an old soul, and to the fact that he would keep being reborn until he fulfilled his destiny.

            “What’s your destiny?”

            His frown deepened, “I don’t know.”

            She finished what was left of the yogurt and offered it to him, much like she would Gansey.

            He accepted it and a clean spoon without a second thought. The two of them had become close friends since their freshman year of college (he even spent his first summer break sleeping on the couch in the living room).

            “That’s crazy,” Blue said with a shake of her head.

            “I know,” he replied. He still couldn’t believe it himself.

            Blue waited until he threw away the yogurt cup before asking, “can you give me a ride to school this morning?”

            He nodded and swiped his keys off of the table. “I’m going there anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is from Lindsey Stirling's song 'Hold My Heart'.


	3. Hide My Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you all so much for your positive feedback! I'm so glad everyone is enjoying the story so far! Have a happy Wednesday!

            Ronan had seen a lot of things since the dawn of time.

            He bore witness to the creation of Earth, when man had discovered fire, the rise and fall of the Roman Empire, the creation of the pyramids, war, peace, and a really bad temper tantrum thrown by one of the archangels the humans called the San Francisco earthquake.

            He had watched women, men, and children come and go from old age, tragedy, and sickness. He'd met necromancers, Nephilim, psychics, and had watched ordinary people do extraordinary things. He'd seen the likes of the exhausted box boy at the Stop ‘n Shop before, but it had been decades ago.

           Old souls were easily recognizable by their auras. The seemed to always have an old energy about them, a sense of timelessness, and a sense of exhaustion. It wasn’t uncommon for old souls to lose a little more of their sanity each time they were reborn. In this young man’s case, he only seemed to be losing steam as he continuously unpacked boxes and broke them down.

            Ronan lounged against the shelves lined with gardening supplies, watching the stranger work like a machine.

            He wondered who he had been in his past lives. Had he been a poet? Writing sonnets, or some shit, for a lover? Had he been a farmer? Up before the sun and asleep long after it had gone down? Had he been a soldier in the Civil War? Marching alongside his brothers-in-arms until he finally met his match on the battlefield.

            This old soul was interesting and Ronan wanted to know more.

            A warning flag rose up in the back of his mind. He should steer clear of this human. He should steer clear of _all_ humans.

_Stupid idiot,_ he thought to himself, _didn’t you learn your lesson the last time?_ He made a soft sound of disdain at his own ignorance and pushed off of the shelves he’d been leaning against.

            He gave the old soul one last lingering look, then whirled around and stormed off to the other end of the store. He knocked a garden hose off of the rack as he went. He didn’t bother stopping to pick it up.

            There was nothing else to do this late at night in Henrietta. Most of the town was asleep.

            The Stop ‘n Shop was one of the only businesses open around the clock to offer the college kids a place to go when they ran out of condoms and beer at three in the morning. So, Ronan took to wandering aimlessly around the aisles of the mostly-empty store.

            He picked up a box of macaroni and cheese studied the bright yellow package for a minute or two. He wasn't really reading the label, instead, he was thinking about how things had drastically changed within the past century and a half.

            He’d watched the Earth change and evolve since its creation, but he’d been on the planet to witness the past one hundred and fifty years up close and personal. It still baffled him how quickly humans were able to adapt to their surroundings and overcome their obstacles. Maybe that was why they were his father’s favorite creation.

            Ronan snorted at himself and rolled his eyes. Nobody had seen or heard from God in eons. He was just sitting back, wherever that bastard was, and watching as the archangels turned everything into a shit-show. It was just one of the reasons that Ronan chose to stay out of Heaven.

            Even though he was an angel, Ronan wasn’t like his celestial brethren. Most of them stayed in Heaven, choosing only to come to Earth when they were ordered by one of the archangels. Unlike his dickbag angelic brothers and sisters, he chose to stay as far away from Heaven as he could possibly get.

            Most of the people who attended church services on Sundays pictured Heaven as this beautiful place on top of big fluffy clouds where angels sang and welcomed them into their eternity.

            The Heaven Ronan knew wasn’t like that. Instead, it was warriors always training for battle, angels choosing favorites among their brothers and sisters, and killing anyone who was seen unfit in Heaven’s eyes.

            Ronan himself had witnessed that event several times. It had been nauseating the first time he'd seen Michael's holy blade rain down on someone. It had been nauseating every time since.

            If his brothers and sisters found him, Ronan would be asked to return to Heaven. He’d been given a task and he’d have to follow it through. Refusing to do what was assigned to him had consequences. Sometimes, they were even as severe as becoming a fallen angel.

            He had chosen this shitty pint-sized town for one reason and one reason only. The ley lines were powerful and because Henrietta was in the midst of three overlapping lines, the energy it put off was even more powerful. It was strong enough to hide him from his dickbag brothers.

            He wasn’t the only one who saw the energy from the lines as a useful tool to stay undiscovered. Henrietta seemed to attract all kinds of different creatures.

             His first week in town he'd seen a pack of werewolves, a vampire, several spirits, and he knew a psychic lived in town because he saw the sign in front of their house when he drove past.

            Ronan picked up a package of black tanks and cashed out. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

            It was the old soul. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was being watched as he punched out and headed into the parking lot.

            Ronan followed.

            The charcoal black BMW sat under a flickering light in the mostly empty lot. Ronan ran a hand along the smooth paint before climbing in behind the steering wheel.

            Sure, flying was faster, but it hurt his back more than driving did. Besides that, the car was really fucking sweet. He loved the way that racing down the highway made him feel. Especially, if he had an opponent next to him.

            He grimaced as he shifted against the plush leather, his back and wings burned in protest.

            Even after a century and a half, his wings still hadn’t fully healed. He could still feel the excruciating burn as Michael’s flaming sword sliced through his wings, cutting them off. The smell of his feathers and flesh burning wasn’t one he’d ever forget.

            Then, over a century later, he’d gotten his wings sewn back on. Getting them severed from his body had hurt less.

            Ronan pulled out of the parking lot behind a tri-colored Honda of some sort. He tried not to be amused by the car's awful state, but it was hard. The left rear quarter panel was from an entirely different car altogether!

            His mouth tilted up with an amused smirk. "What a shitbox."

            He pulled into the lot of the twenty-four-hour coffee shop in town, right behind the patchwork car. He was reaching for the door when he saw the car's owner climb out.

            He was tall and thin, his dusty hair glinted beneath the light in the parking lot. His blue eyes had massive bags beneath them like he hadn't slept in days.

            Ronan had been watching him while he'd been at work at the Stop ‘n Shop, but that fact that he'd pulled into The Clutch when he had was purely coincidental. He didn’t hold the door open for him when he went inside.

            Once he was at the counter, he paid for two cups of coffee. He murmured some soft instructions to the barista before he retreated to a corner table in the back of the cafe.

            Ronan quit watching the other boy. Instead, he sprawled in the booth and stared at the label on the coffee cup. Finally, he lifted his eyes and saw the blond standing across from him, arms folded. His coffee sat just inches away from where his long, slender, fingers were resting on the surface of the table.

            He quirked a brow at the old soul, “can I help you?” His words sounded more acidic than he had intended for them to be, but he didn’t apologize for it.

            “How much was it?” He asked, jutting his chin in the direction of the coffee cup. “I’ll pay you back for it. How much did it cost?” He pulled his wallet out, revealing a wrinkled twenty and approximately three ones.

            Ronan took him in from his head to his toes. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" He asked with a scoff and an eye roll.

            “I’m not kidding. How much was the coffee?”

            “You look like death warmed over. Why don’t you just learn to accept a gift when it’s given to you instead of trying to return it, asshole.”

            Either the rhetorical question or the heat in Ronan's tone had caught the stranger off guard. He opened his mouth and closed it again before settling on a scowl.

            A deeply unamused expression passed over his freckled face. He fixed Ronan with a hard glare that would have been ten more times effective if it hadn’t been for the deep bags under his eyes. “I don’t like gifts.”

            Ronan narrowed his back at him in disbelief. Was this guy serious? It was a _gift_. Ronan had bought him coffee because he’d looked like he had been about to pass out from exhaustion. He stood up grabbed his coffee off of the table.

            The stranger blinked at him as if he hadn’t been expecting this reaction.

            “It’s alright,” he said as he brushed past the box-boy. “The next time someone does something nice for you, I hope you remember your manners. A fucking ‘thank you’ would have been just fine.”

            He didn’t wait around to if the other young man wanted to offer up a counter-argument to his statement. He didn’t care.

            Ronan threw the door open hard enough that it banged against the wall. Then, he went out to his car, revved the engine, and left the parking lot in a horribly magnificent squeal of tires.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is from The Cab's song "Angel With a Shotgun".


	4. Shiny Big Cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you're having/had a wonderful weekend! Here's some pynch on this drizzily (at least where I live) day!

Adam’s pen filled in the dark swirling lines growing next to his hastily scribbled notes in the margins of his notebook. He was listening to the professor, but she had been explaining the answer to another student’s question for twenty minutes now. He hadn’t lost interest, but he had already known the answer to the question.

The intricate lines of the tattoo that snaked up beneath the collar of the stranger’s leather jacket were burned into his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about them.

He hated it.

Adam had gone into the coffee shop for enough caffeine to get him through his research paper and had found out that his coffee had been paid for. The cafe hadn’t been that busy and it had been obvious who had paid for his coffee by the way the barista’s eyes kept darting towards the stranger in the leather jacket.

He didn’t let his closest friends pay for his stuff, why would he let a stranger get away with the same crime?

Looking back on his reaction, he’d been kind of rude. The stranger with the scornful expression and piercing blue eyes hadn’t appreciated it, either.

        He sighed and bowed his head, rubbing his temples. All of this stress was starting to give him a headache.

        Adam looked up in time to see Noah walk right in front of the professor mid-lecture. He expected her to tell him off for interrupting her and punish the class with extra homework, but she didn’t. Instead, she acted as though she hadn’t even seen him and continued on.

        Noah slouched into the seat next to him. “Hey,” he murmured.

        “Hey,” Adam whispered back. “I can’t believe you just got away with that.”

        He shrugged and leaned closer to Adam, peering at the lines scribbled in the margins of his notebook. “What is that? It looks like a tattoo.”

        His ears burned at his friend's observation. It was embarrassing and a little creepy to admit that he couldn't stop thinking about a stranger and how his tattoo had crept up beneath the collar of his jacket in the middle of the coffee shop the night before.

        Finally, Adam decided to omit part of the truth and hope that Noah didn't ask any more questions. "It is."

        If the fair boy had any further questions about the drawing, he didn't ask. Instead, he just nodded his head slightly and added a quiet, "sweet."

        Adam just bobbed his head in response.

        The professor lectured right up until the class was dismissed. Adam gathered up his notes and he and Noah left the lecture hall together. “I don’t get how you always managed to show up to class late and  _ never _ get in trouble for it,” he said.

        Noah had his hands buried deep in the pocket of his khaki pants and shrugged. He kicked a stone and watched as it skipped across the sidewalk and skittered into the grass.

        “I mean,” he continued, “I’ve seen her be much more ruthless to people who have done the same thing. How do you do it?”

        A smile formed on Noah’s lips. It was a wry thing, tinged with a bit of sadness. “I’m like a ghost,” he replied.

        Adam scoffed and rolled his eyes.

        Sometimes, it seemed that way. Often, when they were with Noah people tended to pretend he wasn’t there. It was either that, or they didn’t notice him. The latter wasn’t impossible, considering that Noah tended to become rather unremarkable front time to time. Sometimes, Adam often forgot he was with them all together.

“Do you want me to send you my notes?” Adam offered as they approached the commons. “I can just email them to you.”

Noah shrugged. He didn't seem particularly worried that he had missed a good chunk of the lecture. "You can if you want." 

He made a mental note to forward his notes to his friend later. “It’ll have to be after work. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

He checked his seven dollar watch for the time and frowned. He was going to have to grab a sandwich from the dining hall and eat it on the way back to his dorm if he didn’t want to be late for work. “Alright. I’ll send them to you after I get out tonight. I’ll catch you later, Noah.”

“Bye, Adam.”

He grabbed a ham sandwich from the dining hall and ate it on the way back to his dorm. Once he was back, he changed into a threadbare t-shirt and a pair of oily jeans. He made sure he had everything he needed before he grabbed his keys and headed to Boyd’s.

* * *

Adam pulled himself out from beneath the rusty truck and got to his feet. He went back to his toolboxes and dug through it looking for a particular socket. Once his grease-coated fingers closed around it, he stilled.

He felt like the shop was moving around him, shifting and changing to make it seem like he was here at a different time.

When he’d been younger, the feeling had completely disoriented him. It made him feel the way he had after his father had blown his eardrum out, unable to keep his feet beneath him. Now that he was older, that Persephone had helped him, he was able to remain standing. He knew what to look for now, the signs he needed to decipher to figure out what the future was trying to tell him.

Even though he stood with his back fully open, to the garage door he could feel the ghost of metal pressing against his back. Butterflies came to life in the pit of his stomach, heat burned through his chest and down to his toes. He could feel the press of phantom lips pressing against his own. He could smell gasoline, leather, and soap. He leaned harder against the metal behind him. He felt--

Adam shook his head and brought himself back to the present. He could feel the future leaning in, trying to come closer. “No,” he murmured to the empty garage. He put up the mental barriers like Persephone had taught him. “Now is not the time.”

Sometimes the future was persistent. There were times where his visions were so intense that he couldn’t keep himself grounded in the present. Persephone had taught him that it was okay that the future wanted to be seen and understood, but it wasn’t okay for it to bully its way into making him see it.

Apparently, the future wanted him to see that he’d be making out with someone in the garage.

The future was fluid, never set in stone. It was subject to change for many reasons. Which, was probably a good thing because making out with someone at work was  _ never _ going to happen. He came to work to make money. He didn’t come to work to make out with...whoever.

He turned around with the wrench and crawled back under the rusty truck and made a few more adjustments before he finished up.

He went back into the office, informed the owner it was ready and then looked at the list of cars waiting for him. It wasn’t a very long list.

The car waiting for him out front was a charcoal grey BMW. It looked oddly familiar.

Adam paused in the lot, trying to remember if he had a vision featuring this car or if he had seen it somewhere in town.

A man slid out of the driver’s seat. He was tall, lean, his head was shaved, his blue eyes bore through him.

Adam almost groaned out loud. “Are you stalking me at work now?” He asked the guy from the coffee shop.  

He raised an eyebrow at him, before looking around the garage. It was greasy and full of tools and cobwebs. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

He felt the way he felt when people learned he was from a trailer park in the middle of nowhere. Exposed. Raw. Defensive. “Yeah,” he said. “Don’t expect a free oil change because you bought my coffee the other night.”

“I don’t.”

“Can you pull it into the garage?”

The blue-eyed man just shrugged and aggressively threw himself into the driver’s seat. He fired the car up and pulled it in. After he popped the hood and got out, he joined Adam at the front of the car.

“What’s wrong with it?” Adam asked. Sometimes it was helpful if the owner of the problem-car could give him some background information. Ticks, squealing, and grinding were all helpful sounds that could help diagnose the problem.

“How the fuck would I know? If I knew I wouldn’t have brought it here.”

Adam pressed his chapped lips into a thin line. Being polite, apparently wasn’t this guy’s cup of tea.

Once Blue had told him that before she had gone to college she had never dated. She had told him that she stayed away from boys because they were assholes and she stayed away from rich college boys because they were bastards.

He was half-tempted to agree with the first part of her statement.

However, she had kind of contradicted her motto with her choice in friends. Everyone in her friendship circle, besides Adam, was incredibly wealthy and she attended the college now too.

Adam leaned into the engine bay, tipping his right ear towards the engine. He listened to the ticking and purring it made. He leaned into the cab and checked the gauges. The smell of soap and leather tickled his nose. He shut the car off and went back to the motor.

After working silently for several minutes he stood up and wiped his hands on a rag. The BMW’s owner followed the movement with his eyes.

“It needs a new water pump,” he informed him. “We might have a replacement in stock if you want me to go look. It’s a little pricey, but--”

“Fix it,” the stranger grumbled. He chewed on some leather bands looped around his wrist.

Adam’s ears burned with humiliation. He just nodded and went to fetch the part, relieved to be away from that stranger’s penetrating gaze.

The way the man looked at him shook him to the core. It was like he was stripped to the bones and he was peering into his soul to see every secret he ever had.

He couldn’t stay in the back forever, though. Eventually, he returned to the garage with the part in his hands.

“How long is it going to take to fix it?” He asked, watching Adam approach. He was lounging carelessly against the driver’s side of the car. His one arm was stretched up over the roof, a loose-knuckled fist resting on the grey paint.

“Forty minutes or so,” Adam replied. He didn’t meet his gaze as he pulled the new part out of the box and set it aside until he could get the old one out of the car. “There’s plastic chairs in the office if you want to sit there and wait.” It didn’t take his psychic intuition to see that the stranger had no intentions of leaving.

He could feel his eyes burning holes into him while he worked. More than once, Adam looked up and caught them lingering on his greasy, ugly hands. Each time, humiliation colored his face red.

To keep things from getting past the point of unbearably awkward, Adam did his best to make small-talk. “So,” he said as he loosened the bolts to the old water pump, “do you go to the college in town?”

“No,” the man replied. He sounded bored with the conversation already. “I just live here.”

“How long have you had the car?”

“A few years.”

Adam just nodded at that. It was obvious that he didn’t want to make small-talk. So, he settled for focusing on the task at hand. After a few more minutes of struggling, he managed to pull the failed water pump out of the car.

“Adam.”

He stilled at the sound of his name falling from the man’s lips. He blinked and turned toward him cautiously. “How do you know my name?”

The question seemed to amuse him. His lips twisted upwards in a cruel smile. “It’s on your uniform.”

Adam looked down and at the white patch that held his name stitched in red letters. “Oh,” he said embarrassed.

Once he was bolting the new water pump into place, the stranger spoke again. “My name is Ronan.”

Ronan was an interesting name and it seemed to fit the stranger perfectly. It sounded like a name that would cut someone’s tongue if they didn’t say it properly. The man was all sharp edges and hard lines, a weapon waiting to sever an offending hand from an arm.

“Nice to meet you,” he said politely out of habit.

He worked for a solid fifteen minutes where none of them said anything. He straightened up, shut the hood, and wiped his hands on a rag once more. “If you go into the office Brenda will settle your bill.”

“I don’t have time for that,” Ronan said. He reached out and pressed a handful of bills into Adam’s hand. “Thanks for fixing the car.” Then, he slammed the driver’s side door and backed out of the lot before Adam could form a coherent sentence.

Once he was alone he looked down at the crinkled bills in his hand.

_Three hundred dollars_.

It was entirely too much money. It was almost twice what the repair had cost.

A one hundred and fifty dollar tip was entirely unreasonable. Accepting it would have been wrong, but he had to admit that the idea was tempting. It wasn’t just one hundred and fifty dollars. It was a textbook or three cell phone bills.

No, he couldn’t accept it.

Apparently, Ronan thought Adam needed some sort of charity. He had paid for Adam’s coffee a few nights prior and now _this_?! No, he didn’t need a stranger’s help. He was getting along just fine.

His hand curled around the money, crinkling the bills as he did.

Adam promised himself that the next time he saw Ronan he was going to give him back his money and a piece of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based off the the words by OneRepublic's song "secrets".


	5. Scraped Knees and Bruised Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody who has commented on this story/given kudos is literally breathing air into my lungs. 
> 
> Also, I recommend looking up the lyrics to the song this chapter is titled after. It gives me serious Holy Hell feels. 
> 
> If you don't follow music-booksrlife (aka: lynchesparrrish) on tumblr, you're missing out on some awesome content! She also is super sweet and helped me with this story tremendously!

            Ronan remembered the first time he had met Gansey. It had been over a decade ago, in the forests of Virginia, several hours from Henrietta. He’d been stung by bees so severely that he’d hardly been recognizable as a little boy and had shared more similarities to a science fiction monster.

            He didn’t think Gansey remembered him from that day, but that was fine by him.

            He had been somewhere else entirely (had it been Harrisburg? Or Atlanta?) when he’d heard a silent cry for help. Ronan didn’t think young Gansey knew he’d actually been praying as he’d been dying, but it was his cry that had sent Ronan flying to him.

            Little Gansey’s pulse had slowed to almost nothing. It had been so faint that thinking about it now left Ronan nauseous. If he had been any later, Gansey would have died for real. Ronan’s angelic abilities gave him incredible powers of healing, but not even he could bring the dead back to life.

            Ronan had crouched over the swollen, broken boy, pressed two fingers to his swollen and reddened skin, and healed him.

            It was only coincidence that brought the two of them back together in Henrietta.

            At first, Ronan had been afraid that the ambitious young man had recognized him. He didn’t have to worry long. Upon knowing each other for a few days Gansey had confessed that he’d died and been brought back to life by the long-deceased dead king Owen Glendower.

            He didn’t correct him.

            It was safer for both of them if the truth was kept sealed away in a box, never to be opened.

 Now, Gansey was one of the few people on Earth and in Heaven that he could truly call a friend. 

            They were sitting at their familiar table at Nino’s. Ronan rubbed his forehead irritably where he’d hit it against the gaudy stained glass light fixture that hung above the table. He’s squeezed into the plastic booth next to Noah, who judging by the coldness seeping into Ronan’s bones, was using his angelic power to give him a power-boost of energy to stay present.

            “I’m telling you that no normal person gets avocado on pizza,” Blue said. She was standing at their table with an apron tied around her waist and a beat-up notepad in her hand. Her black shirt was shredded mercilessly and revealed at least two different colored tank tops beneath it.

            This conversation seems to be amusing to Gansey because he offered up a counter-argument about avocado being a superfood.

            “Henry,” Blue said desperately looking at her friend. “Do _you_ eat pizza with avocado on it?”

            Henry grinned at her, “I don’t eat pizza at all. I’m allergic to garlic.”

            Ronan rolled his eyes. Was Cheng being serious right now?

            “Noah?” She asked.

            “I ate a huge lunch,” the blond replied next to Ronan. “There’s no way I could eat anymore.”

            She sighed and shook her head slightly, but her pen started to take down Gansey and Ronan’s typical order.

            The angel looked at each of the faces at the table and wondered if Gansey had any idea that he and Blue were the only humans present.

            Ronan had never told Gansey that he was an angel with a bad past and judging by the way he sat so close to Cheng, he didn’t know the engineering major was actually a vampire. Noah was so cryptic and downright fucking creepy sometimes, but Ronan was starting to believe that Gansey didn’t suspect him to be a ghost either.

            Jesus, his friend was oblivious.

            He supposed that he could tell Gansey the truth. He could reveal that he was an angel, Cheng was a vampire, and Noah a ghost that refused to move on, but he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his business to tell everyone else’s secrets when he had so many of his own.

            He was stupid for letting himself get so close to Gansey. He knew better, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Gansey had a way of drawing humans and supernatural creatures to him. It was just the way he was.

            Their pizza came. Ronan helped himself to the half that was sausage and Gansey helped himself to the half that was avocado.

            Pizza was the not the worst creation mankind had ever created. There had been worse things that had been less delicious and not as useful.

            Halfway through dinner, Blue took her break and squished into the booth next to Gansey. She also didn’t seem to be too aware that Henry was a blood-sucking vampire and she leaned around her boyfriend to ask him what he used in his hair to keep it spiked so ridiculously high.

            Gansey slid his arm around Blue in a comfortable way that made the moment seem almost intimate. He pressed a kiss to her temple and slumped against the cracked vinyl booth in a way that made him seem more relaxed than he'd been all evening. 

            “Ew gross,” Ronan said with a snort.

            Blue looked at him from across the table, her face a scornful mask. “Don’t _ew_ us! When was the last time you’ve had a girlfriend?”

            “Never.”

            She rolled her eyes at him in a way that he could truly appreciate. “Fine. When was the last time you had a boyfriend?”

            He didn’t answer right away. His mind was stuck somewhere in the past. He could feel the ghost of clammy lips, the firm grip of clammy hands, the heat of skin on skin. He blinked and came back to the present. “It’s been a few years,” he said.

            Truthfully, it had been more than a few. It had been over one-hundred and fifty. He and his ex had once had a tumultuous on-again-off-again relationship. It was very much _off_ at the moment and would most likely never be _on_ again.

            Dating was frowned upon in the eyes of the angels. Only other angels were deemed fit enough to be with another angel and that relationship was incestuous and even more frowned upon. For that very reason, most of the angels remain celibate for their entire lives. Ronan wasn’t one of them.

            Blue must have taken his failure to elaborate as a sign that he’s been without a boyfriend for far too long. “Jeez, you need to get a boyfriend.”

            “Or at least laid,” Henry added with a small laugh.

            “I think I know just the right person we could set him up with.”

            “Don’t bother,” Ronan growled, his hackles raised defensively.

            “Come on Ronan!” She complained. “I’m so sick of seeing you by so brooding and angry all of the time.”

            He thought he earned the right to be brooding fair and square, but she didn't know that. He didn't voice that particular opinion out loud, either, because he didn’t want to have to explain his complicated past to his friends.

            If he told them he’d either have to tell them the truth or make up a lie that seemed less unbelievable. Ronan wasn’t a liar.

            He rose from the booth, taking care not to hit his head against the light again. “I’ll see you shits around.” He gave Gansey a salute and a knife-sharp grin before he left the four of them sitting at the table.

            Once he was in the car he finally felt like he could breathe. Thinking about Joe had brought back some not-so-pleasant memories. He could still smell the scent of blood and his own burning flesh.

            His white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel rooted him in the present. This wasn’t 1883. This was 2018 and he was in Henrietta, in his car.

            Ronan drove towards his apartment in the seedier part of town. His mind was no longer stuck in the past but in the present. Thinking about Joe had turned into thinking about Adam. Thinking about the way his lashes dusted across his lightly freckled cheeks, the way his grease-coated hands had skillfully navigated the engine compartment of his car, and the way his pride had flashed in his eyes. 

            Somehow, he found himself driving past the garage where Adam worked. He was there now, that much was obvious because his rolling turd wasn’t easy to miss.

            No wonder the old soul had looked so exhausted when he’d been working at the Stop ‘n Shop. Apparently, all of his time not spent in his classes were spent at work.

            Ronan didn’t know much about old souls, but he did know that they were doomed to keep being reborn again and again until they completed the task fate laid before them. He seriously doubted that Adam had been reborn to work himself to death at two shitty jobs and live in a constant state of exhaustion.

            Once again, his mind drifts to the way that Adam had leaned over the BMW in the garage. Something about it had been more than appealing.

            “Fucking Christ,” Ronan swore angrily. He stomped on the gas, revving the engine, and then turned down the next street to head back to his apartment.

 He'd made mistakes in the past and he didn't plan on repeating them anytime this millennium. 

 

* * *

 

            Midterms were crushing him.

            Gansey had made a remark at lunch about how Adam looked like a walking zombie. He was right and Adam hadn’t had the energy to argue with him about it. Instead, he just promised his best friend that he’d sleep on his day off.

            In fact, the only thing getting him through the rest of the week was the fact that he only had a few hours to work in the morning at Boyd’s on Saturday and the rest of the weekend was his to claim.

 He fully intended on spending a good chunk of his free time catching up on some much-needed sleep. 

            Adam hadn’t planned on stopping at The Clutch on the way home. He had been thinking about his bed since he woke up at seven in the morning. It was nearly eighteen hours later and he was _still_ thinking about how good it would be to fall asleep. That had been before he saw the charcoal grey  BMW in the lot.

            In a split-second decision, Adam whipped into the lot and pulled into a space.

Part of him told him he was being insensible. His pride was arguing that Ronan had no business buying him coffee and giving him too much money out of sympathy. 

            So, he found himself standing at the counter. He ordered two cups of coffee and swept the sleepy cafe for Ronan.

            He wasn’t hard to miss. His black leather jacket stood out against the beige tone of the booth. He was sitting with his back to the rest of the cafe, his tattoo curled up the back of his neck in a way that reminded Adam of a snake about to strike.

            A shiver ran down Adam’s spine and he thought back to the doodles in his notebooks. He told himself as he approached that thousands of people had expensive back tattoos. Just because Ronan had one didn’t mean a thing. There was no logical way for him to be certain that it was Ronan’s until he saw the entire design.

            Adam sucked in a courageous breath and sat down across from him. He said nothing as he set the coffee cup down hard enough for it to make a soft _tap_ on the table. 

            Ronan looked at the coffee. His blue eyes trailed over Adam’s wrist, up his arm, and to his face. He lifted his coffee cup to show it to him. “I already have coffee. See? Besides, you look like you need it more than I do.”

            His eyebrows drew down in a scowl at the dark-haired man’s words. He felt cold anger burning in his gut. He was trying to repay him for the coffee he had bought him the other night.  He didn’t respond right away. He just gripped the arms of the chair silently and counted to ten.

            He couldn’t let himself lose control. He _won’t_ ever let himself be as volatile and explosive as his father.

            “It’s a gift. Didn’t you lecture me on receiving gifts the last time we were here?”

            Ronan didn’t respond, he just glared at the coffee nonplussed.

            Adam slid it closer to him. “In fact, I’m kind of glad I found you here.” He fished his wallet out of the back pocket of his grubby jeans and pulled out Ronan’s change from the garage. He slapped the money down on the table and slid it toward him. “Because you overpaid at the garage. By a lot, I might add.”

           His blue eyes looked at the money and then to Adam. The look of incredulity was enough to make Adam's blood boil again. It was like he had no idea what the value of money was! He was like Gansey, only worse because at least Gansey made an honest attempt not to carelessly throw money around!

            He swallowed his shocked anger with a swig of coffee, burning his tongue in the process. Finally, he repeated, “that’s a lot of money to overpay someone.”

            He judging by the way Ronan’s expression was completely apathetic, he still didn’t understand how much money it was.

            “Like, that could buy your groceries for two weeks.”

            Ronan’s apathetic look transformed into an amused smirk. “Nobody has ever complained when I’ve paid them too much before.”

            Adam’s blood was boiling.

            He focused on squeezing the arms of his chair. _I am not my father. I can control my anger. I’ll be fine, this is just a misunderstanding. I can control my anger. I am not my father. One...two...three...breathe_ , he thought to himself silently.

            “They haven’t,” he finally said, “but I am. It bothers me that you seem to think I’m too poor to afford my own coffee. I _don’t_ need your charity. I don’t accept any help from my closest friends and I won’t accept it from a stranger.”

            “Why do we have to be strangers?” Ronan asked suddenly.

            Adam blinked for a moment or two, unsure he had heard him right. “What?”

            “Christ, are you deaf? Why do we have to be strangers?”

            _Partially_ , Adam thought dryly, but any coherent response he’d had died on his tongue. Ronan didn’t want to be strangers anymore. Was he _flirting_? The idea made Adam uncomfortably warm all over.

            Ronan definitely wasn’t unattractive. He had a fair complexion, penetrating blue eyes, shockingly dark hair, and everything about him gave off a bad-boy vibe. Despite everything that had transpired between this little coffee shop and the garage, Adam couldn’t deny the fact that he was crushing on the handsome man.

            He was so far out of Adam’s league that it was ridiculous.

            The rage that had been burning within Adam was extinguished. He felt himself cooling off by the second. “Well,” he said before he realized what he was even doing, “some of my friends are throwing a party tomorrow if you want to go.”

            Adam didn’t drink, but he usually went because most of his friends were there. Gansey and Blue were going away to some political Gansey gathering, which meant that Adam only had Henry and Noah to hang out with in his free time. He was sure the two of them wouldn’t mind an extra guest.

            The corner of Ronan’s mouth lifted, amused. “Sure. I’ll come. Where do you want to meet?”

            “You can meet me at the center of campus,” he replied. “There’s a big fountain there. You can’t miss it. Just make sure you bring your own alcohol if you’re drinking.”

            “I will.”

            Adam gave a final nod before sliding out of his chair. He was exhausted and had to get to sleep. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

            He left Ronan there with an extra cup of coffee and his money.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is titled after the song "Higher" by The Score.


	6. Ain't Nothing but a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys literally gave me so much love last chapter that my heart is bursting! Thank you all so much!
> 
> Also, if you don't follow me on tumblr, I have decided to combine chapters six and seven for this update. So, not only does that mean this chapter is extra long, but it also means that Holy is Hell is now another chapter shorter.

            “You’re such a stupid fucking idiot!” Ronan swore as he smacked the steering wheel with his palm. “Too fucking stupid to realize you’re going to get everybody in this town killed!”

            His anger was looming over him like a black cloud since the night before. He knew he couldn’t say yes to Adam. That he shouldn’t go anywhere near him ever again, but when the blond had asked him to go to a party with him, he’d been unable to resist.

            He shouldn’t be going. He knew better than to let himself feel this way towards anyone. He had _learned_ to know better.

            Besides, he had a feeling this party wasn’t going to be that great. Nothing could ever compare to the parties of the seventies. Back then, people had been so wild, high, and crazy that there had been no limits.

            Yet, here he was nearly forty years later.

            He sighed and slouched back into the seat. The press of it against his wings was painful, but it was a good pain. It grounded him, reminded him that this was a _horrible_ idea.

            He chewed on one of the several black bands that decorated each of his wrists to hide the scars from a nasty encounter with a demon centuries ago. Christopher Columbus hadn’t even had the nerve to thank him for saving his ungrateful ass either, that fucking prick.

            He almost wanted to call Gansey, but he wouldn't. Gansey and Blue had gone out of town for one of Mrs. Gansey's political soirees. The last thing Ronan wanted to do was freak him out by using his cell phone. It was so uncharacteristic of him that Gansey would surely suspect that something was wrong immediately.

            With a great sigh, he got out and grabbed the case of beer in the passenger seat. He was going to get a parking ticket for parking in the student lot, but he didn’t care. What was sixty dollars to someone who had saved money for decades and decades?

            He knew his way around campus. From time to time he stopped by and hung out with Gansey at his dorm. His roommate never seemed to be around judging by the pristine way his half of the room was always tidy and the fact that Ronan had never seen his face.

            As he walked to the center of campus, he got his fair share of stares as people passed him by. Some of the looks were ones of attraction. He knew that he was good looking. His dark hair and blue eyes really stood out against his pale complexion. However, most of the people passing him gave him a wide berth.

            The way he walked, talked, dressed, and glared at the people around him usually earned him the space he wanted. Other times, though, his celestial energy was enough to warn people to stay back. It screamed predator, the top of the food chain. Most people weren’t willing to press their luck.

            Ronan knew the town was a big hit with supernatural creatures. Most of them hung out on campus. They didn't hang out on campus because they were worried about furthering their education (unlike Cheng, who was a fucking loser). Most of them hung around just because they were creatures that sought out the comfort of other creatures of the same species. That, and college kids were always either blissfully ignorant or blissfully drunk and made easy targets for hungry vampires. 

            Ronan set his case of beer on the edge of the fountain and waited for Adam to show. He watched as people passed through the commons, too focused on their phones, friends, or their destination to pay him much mind.

            He watched as a young blonde walked past, chatting away on her cellphone. She didn’t even notice him...or the vampire that followed her like she was an interesting snack.

            He almost let it be. What the vampire did in his free time was none of his business. However, a wicked stab of guilt reminded him that turning a blind-eye to the vampire and his prey was a cruel and bad idea.

            Ronan's scowl deepened and he shrugged out of his jacket. He set it next to his beer and cleared his throat. 

            The vampire gave him a look of disdain and continued after his target.

            “Hey, fuckface.”

            The vampire looked at him again, his expression stormy.

            Ronan stretched his wings out to their full length, revealing nearly twenty feet of muscle and inky black feathers.

            Nobody else in the Commons seemed to notice except for the vampire. 

            One of the perks of being an angel was that Ronan's wings were only visible to those he wanted to see them. So, he looked like a guy with a sick back tattoo and ugly scars to anybody who saw him with his shirt off. 

            Ronan cocked an eyebrow at the bloodsucker in a silent challenge. 

            It was a challenge the vampire wasn't willing to accept because he stared at Ronan's massive wings and turned away. He almost ran off at inhuman speeds. 

            It was amusing.

            Ronan let himself chuckle a little as he folded his wings up and put his jacket back on. He was just zipping it up when Adam arrived.

            He looked like he fit right in on campus with his khakis and his royal blue sweater. The way he walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets was completely non-threatening. It was like he was well-practiced in the art of making himself blend into his surroundings. His indigo eyes locked on Ronan and he gave a small smile. “Hey,” he said as he came to a stop, “you made it.”

            “Yeah,” Ronan replied.

            “I’ll show you to the party.”

            Somewhere deep in his chest, he felt a familiar pang of something sharp and warm. It was want, admiration, and the bitter reminder that it was something he couldn’t have. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a _very_ long time.

            He hated himself for feeling it.

            If he were smart, he’d leave Henrietta while he still had the chance.

            However, he couldn’t leave yet. He needed the protection of the ley lines. He didn’t want his brothers to find him. If they couldn’t find him they couldn’t force him to do something he didn’t want to. They couldn’t force him to do what he had promised he would do to earn his wings back.

            He didn’t want to be a killer anymore.

            The frat house sat on the edge of campus. It was a massive old Victorian-style home. The paint was peeling in places and the windows were rattling with the force of the music inside. Ronan could see people moving past the sheer curtains inside. 

            When Adam opened the door somebody shouted, "heeey! It's Parrish! I'm glad you could manage to get off of work for once in your life, man!" 

            There was a moment where Adam’s face dropped. It was just a fraction of a second. If Ronan hadn’t been watching he wouldn’t have missed it. Then, a smile appeared on his face in a way that would have made Gansey proud. “Tad, nice to see you.”

            Once they're inside Ronan almost laughed out loud. The supernatural creature to human population was three to one and Adam, much like Gansey and Blue, was blissfully unaware. He had no idea that two-thirds of his friends were monsters of all kinds. 

            Ronan cracked open a beer and didn’t hesitate to drain it. It took a lot of alcohol to get him drunk. He had a feeling it was because he was an angel. He was going to need it to get through this night.

            The other guests knew he was an angel, or they sensed something about him was different. They mostly avoided him, giving him terrified looks like they were afraid they were going to be smited.

            Ronan hadn’t killed anybody since moving to Henrietta and he didn’t plan on starting that trend tonight.

 Adam chatted with a few of the guests but mostly talked to Henry and Noah. 

            “This is Ronan,” he introduced.

            A smile touched Henry’s lips. It was an amused one. “Pleasure to meet you,” Cheng said as he held out his hand.

            Ronan eyed it and then eyed Henry. What the fuck was he doing? They had literally sat at the same table at Nino’s just the night before. Slowly, he extended his hand.

            There was a mischievous glint in Noah's eyes like he knew a secret Ronan didn't. "You look familiar. Have we met before?" 

            Ronan opened his mouth to speak, but Cheng cut him off. “I don’t think we have. Noah, can you come help me make more punch? Ronan, enjoy the festivities. Adam, don’t tire yourself out trying to stay reasonably sober.” He steered Noah toward the kitchen.

            “What was that about?” Adam wondered out loud.

            Ronan cracked open another beer. Cheng and Czerny were obviously up to something. “I don’t have a fucking clue.

 

* * *

 

            The party went on steadily well past midnight.

            The entire house smelled like beer, weed, and cigarettes but everybody was having a too much of a good time to pay any attention to it.

            Adam would have thought that Henry would have had issues with the marijuana in particular, but he was too drunk and philanthropic to care.

            "Listen, listen," he slurred as he leaned against Adam. At some point in the night, Noah had gotten ahold of glitter from somewhere and had sprinkled some in Henry's hair. 

            “I’m listening,” Adam reassured him. He tried not to grimace as the pungent scent of alcohol hit his nose. It reminded him of tender bruises and furious snarling. He didn’t have any pleasant memories associated with the stench of alcohol.

            “We take clean water for granted,” Henry told him seriously. “I mean, we _shit_ in perfectly clean water when there are places in the world--hell, in this country--where people don’t have clean drinking water.”

            Adam almost wanted to brush the glitter off of his shoulder, but he refrained.

            “And I’m going to develop a way to get clean water out of any organic material. Almost everything on earth is made of it! There’s no reason we can’t use the water in those things to get, well, _water_.”

            The idea was there. Adam decided that Henry could potentially develop a way to get clean drinking water to anyone who needed it in the future. Just...not in the near future. Adam had a feeling that Henry’s next encounter with clean water was going to be when he puked his guts out.

            The rest of the party goers were just as drunk as Henry. Adam and Noah were the only sober ones to be found. And, in Adam’s opinion, Noah didn’t really count because he was constantly riling up the crowd and getting the drunkest of them to do stupid things. Like, convincing Tad Carruthers to surf down the stairs while standing in Cheng Two’s laundry basket.

            Which, despite Adam’s childhood, was another reason he chose to stay sober. Because if somebody needed to go to the emergency room, _somebody_ would have to drive. He preferred it be him rather than somebody who was well intoxicated.

            Adam had lost count of how many drinks Henry had drunk over an hour ago, but he wasn't the only person who was drinking like it was a means to an end. 

            Ronan had brought a thirty-four pack of beer with him and he had steadily drained well over half of it. It was an incredible amount of alcohol for one person to consume, but Ronan seemed only as drunk (maybe even a little less) than most of the crowd. It was an impressive, yet terrifying, feat.

            He also noted that most of the guests were staying away from Ronan. Nobody but Noah and Adam paid him much attention. Even Henry avoided him. He supposed it was because of Ronan’s abrasive nature. He couldn’t say he blamed them. Everything about Ronan was a warning for people to stay away.

            Adam did brush the glitter off of his shoulder when Henry straightened up. He looked at his friend as he turned to the spiked punch bowl for a refill. “Henry, why do you only take night classes?”

            Henry was an engineering major. It was a tough major to get in to. He certainly was smart enough for it and there most definitely openings in the daytime classes, but his friend only took the night classes.

            Cheng took a drink and turned around. He gave Adam a toothy smile. The red juice left his teeth stained red. He held up his arm like a vampire with an invisible cape. “Alas, Parrish, I am a creature of the night.”

            Ronan snorted so hard that he almost shot beer out of his nose. He coughed and sputtered before crushing the can and tossing it aside. “Are you fucking serious, Cheng?”

            Adam rolled his eyes at Ronan dramatic over-reaction. It seemed a little uncalled for.

            Henry didn’t miss a beat. He winked at Ronan, “ _dead_ serious.”

            “Christ,” he muttered before cracking open another beer and taking an unhealthy swallow.

            The party lasted well into the morning. It was closer to four when the crowd started to thin out.

            “I’m almost out of beer,” Ronan said. He looked at the few cans left in his box and frowned. “I should pr-probably go home.”  

            Adam scowled at him. “Are you serious right now? How are you going to get there? Are you going to fly there?”

            This seemed to amuse Ronan because he barked out a drunken laugh and slung an arm over Adam’s shoulder. “I fucking could if I wanted to.”

            He grimaced and ducked out from under Ronan’s arm. He rubbed his collarbone and gave the other man a puzzled look. What did that even mean?

            “I could fly to outer-fucking-space!”

            “Ronan, you’re drunk. I’m not letting you drive home.

            “If I wanted another dad I’d go find the deadbeat that left me eons ago.”

            Adam was annoyed and he _almost_ considered telling him to go and that he’d let Boyd know to pull that beautiful BMW out of the ditch in the morning. He didn’t tell him that, though. Because this was one of the main reasons that he stayed sober.

            Ronan fumbled with his keys. He could barely keep them in his hand, let alone function well enough to put them in the ignition of his car.

            He was quick to react and scoop them up off the floor. He held them up between them, a victorious grin on his face. “My roommate is out of town for the weekend. You can sleep in his bed. Let’s go.”

            Ronan wasn’t pleased about being coerced into staying in Adam’s dorm room. He voiced as much on the walk across campus by slurring a bunch of expletives together in a truly admirable fashion.

            Adam saw the red-haired RA sitting on night duty at the desk in the entrance of the dorm rooms. He felt nerves make his stomach sick.

            There was a rule about drinking on campus. It was grounds for expulsion. Thankfully, Cheng’s house with the Vancouver crowd was just over the property line for the school. He had chosen the house’s location strategically.

            _Please stay quiet for once in your life_ , Adam pleaded silently to Ronan as they crossed the lobby. _Please_!

            The RA looked up from his book and frowned at Adam. “You have to sign him in.”

            “Right,” he said with a hasty exhale. He’d never had guests stay the night in his dorm before. Once, he had stayed in an upperclassman’s room long enough to hook up. But, they’d snuck into the emergency exit to get in to avoid the RA.

            Adam picked up the pen and scribbled his name and paused when he was scribbling Ronan’s. “What’s your last name again?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at the drunk man.

            Ronan paused at this question, “uh…”

            He raised a brow at him. Was he so drunk that he didn’t remember his last name?

            “Lynch,” Ronan said after an uncomfortably long pause. “I think that’s the one I use.”

            Adam frowned and hastily scrawled Ronan’s last name on the guest roster. He wondered if it Ronan’s drunkenness was to blame for his hesitation or if he was making up a last name so Adam couldn’t google his name or something.

            “Have a nice night,” the RA said, looking between them.

            “What the fuck are you looking at, ferret?” Ronan asked.

            “ _Ronan_!” Adam hissed. He grabbed the sleeve of his leather jacket and towed him to the stairs. “Are you always so rude?”

            He didn’t answer verbally. Instead, gave an impervious shrug and stumbled up the stairs.

            “You’re a dick.”

            His grin was jagged and unapologetic.

            Once Adam pushed the door to the dorm room he shared with Gansey open, he felt suddenly very self-conscious.

            Gansey's half of the room was an expensive mess. His half of the floor was littered with expensive cable-knit sweaters, rumpled chinos, and a wrinkled silk tie. Books were scattered haphazardly across his desk. At some point, his mint plant had been knocked over and the dirt hadn't been swept up. 

            Adam's half of the room was immaculate. There wasn't a hair out of place. He didn't have many possessions, but what he did have was carefully cataloged and put away so it wouldn't get lost or ruined. 

            Gansey's half of the room seemed to symbolize who was as a person. Everything about him screamed expensive and materialistic, but that was only who he was on the surface. On the inside he was constantly looking for the next adventure, searching desperately for answers to unsolvable questions. His room was a mess because his things didn't mean much to him. It wasn't that they didn't mean much to him because they were easily replaceable. They didn't mean much to him because they were always an afterthought. Gansey was too busy to think too much about trivial things like ensuring his clothes got in the dirty laundry basket. 

            Adam’s half of the room was a lie. He wasn’t that put together. He was a mess on the inside, torn between classes, work, and his old life. He kept his things immaculate in an attempt to recreate himself into the image of Gansey that the rest of the world saw.

            Ronan’s blood-shot blue eyes swept across the room. His eyes roamed over the mess on Gansey’s side and the sterile cleanliness of Adam’s side.

            Adam's ears warmed up. Surely, he was seeing Adam's second-hand textbooks on the next to his desk and he was judging him for it. He probably saw right through his act. He probably could tell Adam grew up in a trailer park with nothing. 

            Instead of saying anything about it, Ronan shucked off of his jacket it and hung on Gansey’s bedpost.

            With his back turned, Adam could see more lines of the tattoo swirling beneath Ronan's black tank. The lines were familiar because he'd doodled them in the margins of his notes during lectures. 

            Ronan looked at Adam’s desk. He moved to it and studied the tarot cards sitting neatly stacked in one corner of it. He extended one finger and touched it to the backside of the topmost card. “Have you always been psychic?”

            “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he admitted. “I mean, I guess. I just didn’t start learning until I was a teenager in high school.”

            He shook his head and turned away from the tarot cards. "Ignore my stupid fucking questions." 

            “You can ask. I don’t mind.”

            He didn't answer. Instead, he turned and inspected Adam's books instead. His eyes carefully calculated each item in the room and its deliberate placement.

            The room started to move and shift.

            Silently, Adam reached out and gripped the back of his desk chair to steady himself.

            It’s a wheeling sensation of lips on lips, skin on skin, burning hands roaming his body.

            In the present, Adam felt his face flush. He cleared his throat as the premonition faded away. He made note that it was the second time he’d had this very sensation. He didn’t know what it meant, but he silently wished it would stop.

            He blinked and locked eyes with Ronan.

            Ronan was staring at him, something deep and indiscernible in his eyes.

            Adam’s mouth went dry and he pressed a hand to his chest in an attempt to steady his heart’s stutter-stepping.

            In this very moment, there was something very _otherworldly_ about Ronan. The way he was standing was predatory, but not off-putting. His eyes stared at Adam like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He licked his pink lips and said, “you remind me of someone.”

            Until he said that, Adam hadn’t realized how close they were standing to one another. He was pretty sure Ronan could hear how hard his heart was pounding a rhythm against his ribs. “Why is that?”

            “Because I want to kiss you.”

            It was a simple sentence. It wasn’t hard for him to wrap his mind around it, but hearing those words from Ronan’s mouth made Adam’s heart explode in his chest. He felt warm all over. Butterflies made themselves known in his stomach.

            Adam leaned in and pressed their mouths together.

            It was heated, tongues, teeth, roaming hands, and ragged breaths.

            He was burning from the inside out and the fire was starting at his lips.

            Ronan pulled back, just enough to speak. “I shouldn’t be doing this. I should stop.”

            “What if I don’t want to?” Adam breathed back.

            Vibrant blue eyes studied his face and their mouths crashed together again. This time, it was ten times more hungry, needier. 

            Adam felt like he was going to combust each time Ronan’s hands slid over a newly discovered patch of skin under his sweater. The corner of the desk was digging into his hip, but he hardly noticed it. All he could think about was how amazing Ronan’s lips felt against his own. He doesn’t want him to ever stop.

            He didn’t typically hook up with people he didn’t know. It had happened a time or two, but he’s too far gone to really care at this point.

            Ronan pulled Adam’s shirt off over his head.

            For a fraction of a second, he froze. Then, when he remembered had had no bruises from being shoved violently against the countertop or being kicked while he was down, he relaxed and pulled Ronan in closer. 

            There was a pleasurable burn surging through his gut as Ronan grabbed him and turned him around. With a firm shove, he pushed Adam backward so he landed on the bed. Then, his lips were over every exposed inch of skin on his stomach and chest. 

            “Sit up,” Adam gasped, shoving Ronan off of him slightly.

            His brow furrowed, but he did what was requested of him.

            Adam’s hands went to his belt and quickly undid it, followed by the button. He did his best to help Ronan shimmy out of the _very_ flattering jeans he wore.

            After that, the night was a blur of sweat, skin, and bruising kisses.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is titled by a line in 'Paint the Town Green' by The Script


	7. Without Faith and a Believer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys are truly incredible! Happy hump day to all of my lovely readers!
> 
> This chapter is a bit on the short side. For that, I apologize. I also just to let you guys know, Adam and Ronan are dressed in exactly 0% of this chapter.

            He was pretty sure his brain would herniate out of his skull if his head didn’t stop pounding.

            Ronan cracked open a blue eye and shut it immediately when the light peeking from between the blinds glared in his face. He let out a muffled noise and buried his face into the pillow.

            Being an angel ensure that he wasn’t subjected to mundane illnesses like smallpox, polio, or the flu, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get a hangover if he tried hard enough. Judging by the foul taste in his mouth he had certainly tried the night before.

            The last time he had been hungover had been decades ago. He hadn't enjoyed it then and he certainly wasn't fond of it now. The fact that there were some humans that actively tried to acquire a hangover was just plain idiotic. He didn't understand how nausea or a pounding headache was worth one night of drunken bullshit. 

            He breathed in through his nose. The pillow smelled like Adam and sex. It wasn’t a bad scent.

            “Fuck,” he grumbled once he mustered up enough courage to open his eyes again.

            He was in Gansey’s room. Dust motes glinted in the sunlight trickling through the blinds, the mint plant on Gansey’s desk offered a soft and familiar smell. He turned his head, taking in Adam’s naked body crammed against the wall and Ronan’s body in a way that couldn’t be comfortable.

            He barked out a laugh, soft and short.

            Adam was Gansey’s fucking roommate. Christ, he hadn’t expected that twist.

            The sound was enough to cause Adam to stir. He lifted his head, his blue eyes focusing blearily on Ronan. A tuft of his dust-colored hair was sticking up and he had a bit of dried drool on the corner of his mouth. It was oddly endearing.

            Ronan’s heart constricted painfully in his chest.

            _Stop that_ , he chided.

            Adam’s eyes locked on Ronan for a breath. Then, they tracked down Ronan’s naked body from head to toe in a very slow and deliberate way.

            Ronan didn’t have to sleep, he was an angel, it was a mortal habit that he had picked up during the time he had been fallen. When he did sleep, he slept on his stomach. His scars and wings hurt too badly for him to lay on his back for prolonged periods of time.

            The fact that he was lying on his stomach meant Adam got an eyeful of his tattoo, his scars, and his ass. He was only pleased to have him looking at one thing out of the list.

            He knew he should probably say something to Adam about what happened the night before. He shouldn’t have gone home with Adam. He shouldn't have agreed to go to Cheng's party. He shouldn't have gotten drunk.

            History had a habit of repeating itself and no matter what Ronan did, he couldn’t help but give Adam his full and undivided attention.

            It terrified him.

            He could still smell blood, burning flesh, and hear desperate pleas for help.

            He couldn’t let Adam suffer the same fate as Joe.

            Adam’s voice was close to his ear as he leaned closer to Ronan. “Can I look at your tattoo?” The way he asked was noninvasive and innocent enough, almost like he expected to be rejected.

            Ronan was tempted to tell him no. The scars were mildly apparent from where Adam sat now. If he got any closer he’d see them in all of their ugly glory. It would raise questions and Ronan would have to answer them very carefully to avoid lying. He wasn’t a liar.

            His scars reminded him of his awful past. They reminded him exactly why he should _not_ have done what he’d done last night.

            Yet, what had happened between them had happened. There was no taking it back and from Adam’s position the night before, he probably had seen his scars anyway. Whether he had paid them any mind in the heat of the moment was another question entirely.

            Ronan’s voice was a low grumble, voice raspy from dehydration and sleep. “I guess.”

            Somehow, it was possible for Adam to move even closer to him on the small college-issued mattress. His fingers were as light as a feather as they traced the black lines and patterns that spread across Ronan’s back, emitting goosebumps in their wake.

            _Oh father_ , Ronan thought as he pressed his face back into Adam’s pillow, _I’m so fucked. I need to get out of this damned town._

            It was the best decision for him, to get the hell out of here...but he couldn’t. He had avoided leaving Henrietta so he could avoid the angels. Now, he was stuck here indefinitely because he was completely captivated by Adam Parrish's fucking fingers. 

            Ronan stilled as he felt a ghost-light touch of a finger over the scar on his left side, brushing right against the base of the wing Adam couldn’t see.

            There was a tense silence in the air between them.

            He turned in his head and looked at Adam. The med-student looked like he wanted to ask where the scars had come from, but he wasn’t sure if he should or could. Instead of asking, he just studied them.

            “You can ask,” Ronan told him.

            “What happened? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I…” he trailed off, like he had more to add but didn’t think he should.

            It would have been so easy to lie, to spin a tale about a tragic accident or a bad fight...anything except for the truth. But Ronan wasn’t a liar.

            He had seen what lies did to the people who spoke them. He wanted no part of it.

            He swallowed, carefully thinking out his answer. “One of my older siblings and I had a disagreement,” he finally said. “It turned violent.”

            It was the first time he had openly revealed anything about what had happened all of those years ago. Talking about it suddenly had him back on his knees on the splintering clapboard floor of the cabin. Joe had fired the gun three times into Michael’s chest and it had done nothing to hurt the archangel. Michael had flung him across the room like a toy and then stabbed him with his flaming sword as Joe had desperately cried out to Ronan for help.

            Ronan had fought against his brothers. He had tried to go to Joe's side. The scent of blood had flooded his nostrils. He hadn't been able to get up. His wings had been painfully wrenched out from behind him and severed from his body with the cruelest stroke. The pain had been unbearable, but through his tear-stained vision, Ronan had only been able to see Joe's lifeless eyes looking back at him.

            He wasn’t sure if it was the hangover or the memory making him nauseous, but he swallowed the bile that had crept up the back of his throat.

            Adam’s finger stilled in its path down his scar.

            Ronan braced himself for the questions that were going to follow. Surely, the blond was going to ask what kind of family disagreements ended up with such mutilation and pain. He waited for Adam to tell him how fucked up it was that his brother would stab him, no matter what Ronan had done or how wrong it had been.

            It never came.

            Adam took his hand back and studied Ronan’s face for a brief moment before looking away. He was looking at something on his desk, away from him. “I understand.”

            Those two words completely baffled him. Ronan shifted on the bed so he could study Adam’s face.

            What had this old soul been through to make him understand that kind of pain and torment? He had probably survived countless awful things like war, hate, and violence. However, the slight tightness in his jaw and his refusal to look in the angel’s face told him that it pertained to this life and not one of the past. There was something terribly unfair about it.

            “I’ve seen your tattoo before,” Adam finally said. Only after he said it did he allow himself to look at Ronan’s face. “I kept getting visions of it.”

            This was an interesting bit of information and considering how their first few meetings had been brimming with tension it was fairly amusing.

            Ronan’s lips quirked upwards. “Is it because of this moment? Right now?”

            “I don’t think it’s just this moment and this moment alone. It’s hard to tell.” Adam’s eyes went back to the ink embedded into Ronan’s skin and his fingers went to tracing the patterns.

            He couldn’t stand it for another minute. Ronan carefully rolled himself on his back with a slight grimace and then he used his grip on Adam’s wrist to pull him down into a heated kiss that was lips, tongue, and teeth.

            The soft sound that slipped from Adam’s throat was enough to get Ronan’s dick interested.

            They pressed their hips together, the friction between them growing in intensity with each ragged breath they took.

            Ronan’s fingers dug into Adam’s hips as he pressed himself against him.

            "How does your head feel? You drank a lot last night," the blond breathed before leaning down and nipping at the skin on Ronan's collarbone. "Do you feel well enough to--"

            Ronan silenced him by tightening his fist in his dusty hair and yanking him in for a bruising kiss. Once they parted he growled, “it doesn’t hurt bad enough for you not to fuck me.”

            Adam smiled at him and ground their hips together teasingly. “Are you sure?”

            “ _Very_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title goes to the song 'Who I Am' by the Score. 
> 
> Personally, I feel like this song encompasses much of Ronan's personality in this story. Thank you for reading!


	8. Time Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I interrupt this mid-study mental meltdown to bring you Chapter Eight, starring Ronan Lynch (ft. Chainsaw's gross sounds). 
> 
> On a side note, Wednesday's update is going to be earlier in the morning (before 2PM) for the next two weeks because my shift at work has changed for the time being!

            Ronan's apartment wasn't exactly in the best part of town. It was a small, cramped apartment in a time-abused brick building with a used car lot on its left and an empty, decrepit, pizza shop across the street.

            His apartment isn't an explosion of useless clutter like Gansey's half of the dorm and it certainly wasn't a nunnery like Adam's. Although it was full of stuff, each object in his apartment meant something to him. What may look like useless junk to Blue or Gansey was actually a piece of his past.

            Maybe he was nostalgic or maybe he was a glutton for punishment. Maybe he was both. The objects he kept served as bittersweet reminders of a dark time in his life.

            He had a bullet from a trench during WWI, one of Elvis Presley's pretentious ascots (or whatever the fuck they were called), a bottle of whiskey from prohibition, a chunk of rock from the Berlin wall, and a smashed guitar from a Led Zepplin concert.

            Each one of the items seemed like meaningless junk to a random onlooker. They had no idea what it had been like to be _there_ when it all happened.

            His fingers trailed lightly over the splintered wood of the guitar’s neck. He had gotten his wings back shortly after.

            During the middle of the Seventies Ronan's ex-had reappeared. He and Kavinsky had spent half a decade staying under the angels' radar. It had been five years of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll. He had done plenty of things that angels--even ex-ones--certainly didn't do. Then, Declan had come along, Kavinsky had been sent back to Hell, and Ronan had been alone.

            A handful of lonely years later, the angels had offered him a deal he thought he had been unable to refuse at the time. That was how he had gotten his wings back.

            “ _Kerah_ ,” Chainsaw squawked from somewhere in the apartment.

            Ronan didn’t bother to turn on the lights to find her. He didn’t need them to see in the dim light filtering through the blinds. Being an angel meant he had perfect vision in the day or in the night. “Where are ya, brat?”

            He found her perched on the back of one of the mismatched kitchen chairs. She quirked her head from side to side as he approached. She studied him with her beady black eyes like she knew he had spent the night getting up to no good without her.

            “Don’t judge me,” he told her. “What do you want, anyway?”

            She ruffled her feathers in response.

            He didn’t have to ask. He knew what she wanted anyway. Ronan opened the refrigerator and gave her what was left of a chunk of hamburger.

            The sounds she made while she ate it sounded like a vacuum sucking up cold chicken noodle soup. It was completely disgusting and endearing.

            Ronan had found her when had arrived in Henrietta. He had almost left her to die, but he couldn’t do that. He was too tired of being heartless. So, he had kept the ugly chick and raised her. She was now a big, needy, bird-child whose wings matched his own.

            He left her and her cringe-worthy eating sounds alone.

            He moved through his apartment, still turning the events over from the night before in his mind. He can’t believe he’s hooked up with Adam Parrish, a _human_. He was an old soul, but he was a human nonetheless. Even if they couldn’t procreate to create a Nephilim, it was still _very_ frowned upon by the other angels.

            Ronan rubbed the back of his shaved head, “Fucking shit. Why am I so fucking stupid?” Why was he so weak when it came to Adam? And why the hell did he seem _so_ familiar for an old soul?

            Where did he recognize him from?

            He heaved a great sigh and threw himself face down on the leather couch he had bought when he had moved into town. There was still a dull, throbbing ache behind his eyes and the only solution he could come up with to get rid of it was an attempt to sleep it off.

            It was very difficult for him to get drunk, so he didn’t really get hungover. Sometimes, the closest he got to a hangover was a slight headache after drinking twenty or so beers. His inhumanness allowed him to stomach more alcohol than the average mortal.

            He lost track of how long he laid on the couch willing himself to sleep. His mind was too busy thinking about Adam’s soul and where the fuck he’s seen him before.

            With a frustrated grunt, he pushed himself upright on the couch and looked around the apartment. It was going to bother the shit out of him if he didn’t figure it out soon.

            There had been a time, a _long_ time ago, that he had run into the same old soul twice. The first time, it had been the soul's first life. There hadn't been a way to tell at the time that he was an old soul. He had just been another mortal living life to the fullest during the roaring twenties. 

            Then, forty years later, he had come across the same soul again. At first, he hadn't been able to recognize that it had been the same soul he had ran into during the late 1920's. After spending a few weeks with him, however, it became glaringly obvious that they were the same and that the man had no idea he had lived another life before the one in which they'd met the second time.

            Ronan heaved himself off of the couch and went to his bedroom.

            There was a fair amount of clutter in there too. He dug through a few boxes in his closet, looking for a specific picture, but came up empty. With a grunt, he laid on the dusty floorboards and pulled another shoebox from under the bed. He started sifting through its contents.

            He couldn't believe that he had hooked up with Adam not only once, but twice within a twenty-four hour period. It was against his better judgment, yet he was nothing but putty in the blond's _very_ capable hands. Why was he so fucking weak?!

            Ronan finally found a picture. It was old and the quality was nowhere near the capability of the modern cameras used today, but it was the picture he was looking for.

            He studied it. His blue eyes lingered on himself and the young man that was standing next to him in the photo. Ronan had a massive cigar hanging out from between his lips as he sat on the jungle floor, leaning up against a tree. Next to him sat a young man with dark hair, olive skin, and hazel eyes. Both of them wore identical smirks of chagrin.

            His name had been Billy Stark. He had come from Nebraska, drafted for the war. He and Ronan had gotten along well. Ronan had saved his ass from getting shot once and that was how they had met. Then, two weeks later, Ronan had realized that he had met this soul nearly four decades before.

            He stared at the picture, his eyes focused on Billy’s face. He remembered the sense of familiarity he had gotten when he had looked Billy in the eyes. Then, it clicked. Adam Parrish was Billy-fucking-Stark.

            That realization made him feel one part relieved and two parts sick.

            He had been there when Billy had died. He had taken three bullets right to the chest. Ronan had held him in his arms while he had choked on his own blood. He had wanted to heal him, to make him better so he could find his destiny and avoid being reborn, but he hadn’t been an angel. He hadn’t had his powers of healing back then. There had been nothing he could do except watch him die.

            Ronan looked at the photograph one more time before putting it away.

            Adam’s soul had been through a lot of bad luck. He hadn’t been able to help Billy find his purpose, but he sure as hell could help Adam find his. He wasn’t going to let Adam die in this life. Not if he could help it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is inspired by the song 'Time Machine' by Ingrid Michaelson.


	9. Ghosts and Devils Come Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day! What better way to celebrate with some Pynch?!
> 
> Once again, I'm just so astounded by my awesome readers! Your comments never fail to make me smile!

_The dark night sky was even blacker with the overlying storm clouds. The rain beat against the parched earth like the sound of a thousand horses running across the plains. The thunder rumbled overhead, deep and overbearing, accompanied by frenzied jolts of lightning, eager to be seen._

_The lantern had been blown out by the rugged wind and the persistent rain. Thankfully, the two of them had known the way back to the cabin by heart._

_It had been two years since Joe moved out of his family’s house. He had claimed to be following a lover across the state. It wasn’t a lie, but he had failed to mention his lover was a man. His Christian parents would not have approved, even if it was the happiest he had ever been._

_Joe nearly tripped over his lover in his haste to get inside. Once they were both dripping on the slab wood floor, he shut the door and threw the lock in place. He turned to the other man, a laugh falling from his lips._

_They were both soaked to the bone. The tall, dark-haired man's white shirt was clinging to his skin as if he'd just come from the river. His curls hung in his face. He looked like an angel sent from God._

_Joe grinned and tugged him in closer by his black suspenders. Then, he leaned up and kissed him._

_His lover was quick to respond. He pressed his lips against Joe’s just as hungrily._

_Here, in the comfort of their own home, they could kiss like this. They didn’t have to be afraid of being caught and judged for their love. Still, just like it always did, a silent thrill went through him. He liked the idea of doing something so forbidden._

_Joe felt his pack press up against the wall and his heart skipped a few beats in his chest. His hands deftly slid the black suspenders off of the shoulders of the other man’s dripping white shirt before working on the buttons._

_“Bed?” His companion murmured. His voice had dropped several octaves and was raspy in a way that rattled Joe to the core._

_“Bed,” he breathed back at him._

_Their kissing resumed, the chill of the storm long forgotten as the dark haired man managed to unfasten all of the buttons on Joe's well-worn shirt. His lips were burning a trail downwards, towards the waistline of his now too-tight pants._

_With a firm and needy shove, he found himself sprawled on the lumpy corn-husk mattress in the corner of the one-room shack._

_Joe reached up and pulled his lover’s lips back down to him. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of those work-calloused hands running across his skin. It felt better than anything else this earth had to offer._

_“I want--”_

_He was cut off as a bang sounded at the door. It was so loud that it caused the solid door to rattle on its iron hinges._

_His lover stilled, looking at the door._

_The bang sounded again, more gently than the last._

_“Maybe it was the wind?” Joe offered. He impatiently reached up and pulled the other man’s mouth down the kiss him again._

_BANG!_

_The door, which had been firmly locked with a wooden board across it slammed open._

_Lightning flashed in the open doorway twice. The first flash revealed nothing but the hailstorm outside. The second revealed men with wings extended to the heavens. Their eyes glowed golden. When they stepped inside the cabin they moved in unison, predators stalking their prey._

_Joe’s heart clenched in fear. Were they men? Angels? Demons? Was he paying for his sin of loving a man?_

_His partner got up and turned towards the four intruders. He stood between them and the bed. “Brothers, please. This isn’t what it appears to be. **Please** , leave. I will return home with you. I will atone for my sins. Just let him live.” _

_Kill **him**? Joe had no doubt the other man was referring to him. He saw the rifle propped up against the wall a few feet away. Slowly, he inched towards that side of the bed. _

_Two of the strangers reached out and grabbed his dark-haired companion._

_“Please, Declan! Declan, you must understand.”_

_Joe’s fingers closed around the smooth wood of the rifle. He pulled it close and fired three shots directly into the chest of the largest man._

_The man didn’t even flinch. He inspected his bare and bleeding chest with little interest. His eyes locked on Joe and he held out his hand._

_The one standing in the doorway was smaller than the rest. He had a dark set of curly hair as well. His face was stoic as he watched his brother forced to his knees. “You are in violation of the angelic code by lying with a Nephilim. How could you mate with the filthy, illegitimate spawn of man and angel? How could you betray us like this?”_

_“Declan, **please**!” _

_There was a brief flash of pain across the other angel’s face, but it was quickly covered up. “As punishment for your crimes, you will be cast out of heaven before a trial of our brothers and sisters. Your wings will be revoked, and the Nephilim will be disposed of and sent to Hell, where its soul belongs.”_

_The biggest angel took a step towards Joe._

_With shaking fingers, Joe fired another shot into his chest._

_Once again, it did no good. He didn’t even acknowledge the new hole in his chest. He extended his hand and a shining sword appeared out of thin air. His glowing eyes locked on Joe and he moved towards him once again._

_The sword caught fire._

_Joe scrambled out of the bed, looking for a way out._

_The angel was too fast. He was in front of him before he could make a run for it._

_He could see his lover struggling against his brothers as they held him down. “Please!” He called to his struggling companion, “help me, **please**! Stop them!” _

_He could feel the heat of the sword the second it’s rammed through his chest._

 

* * *

 

            Adam thrashed awake so severely that he almost fell off of the bed. He sat up, gasping for breath, a hand pressed against his chest. He swore he could still feel the heat from the flaming sword as ran through him. 

            Angels and Nephilim...what did it mean?  

            He scrambled out of bed. He needed to write what he remembered from the dream down before he forgot it. He’d learned that dreams were often much deeper than they appeared. He bent over his desk, hastily scrawling the already-muddy details from his dream down.

            “Adam, are you okay?” Gansey asked from his bed. He was writing in his well-worn leather bound journal.

            “I’m fine,” he replied, “I’m just writing something down before I forget. How was your trip back?”

            “It was fine. Traffic was practically nonexistent because it was so late.”

            Adam nodded to show that he’d heard his friend. Then, he ripped the messy pages from his notebook. “I’ll be back,” he promised his roommate. He didn’t bother to change out of his sweatpants and t-shirt. He didn’t have time if he wanted to catch Maura and Calla before either of them left Fox Way.

 

* * *

 

            He sat silently across from Maura while her eyes skimmed across the hastily-scrawled words on the page. He wondered what she made of it. Maybe he was making it up. Maybe it was nothing.

            Yet, it had felt so real.

            It also wasn't the first time he'd seen the dark-haired stranger or "Joe", whoever he was. Clearly, those two people appearing in his dreams had to mean _something_.

            Finally, Adam couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Ma’am,” he asked politely, “what do you think it means? Does it mean anything at all?”

            Maura considered his question silently for a moment or two. Then, she smoothed the creased notebook paper out with a soft sigh that reminded him of Persephone. Then, she looked at him. “Dreams are...finicky,” she finally said. “Some of them can be real, some of them are completely made up, and others show our deepest fears and desires.”

            “They can also show past lives, right? You said before that the dreams I was having were so realistic that they could be remnants of my past lives.”

 "Right," she replied. "This dream, though...I can't seem to tell whether it's made up of your subconscious or a remnant of your past. Granted, I'm not the best at deciphering dreams. Calla is much better at it than I am, but she's at work."

            Adam frowned and picked at a hangnail on his thumb. He didn’t like the sounds of that. “It seemed so real,” he admitted.

            “It could be that it has elements of truth and elements that are made up. Angels and Nephilim...although, I’m not saying it's impossible, it just doesn’t seem very realistic.”

            He didn’t want to argue with her. He knew the difference between something that wasn’t real and something so real it had to have happened at another time. Even if it was a past life, the dream had been far too vivid for him to think it was made up.

            Instead of arguing that point, he simply looked up and asked, “how do I find the meaning of my dreams?”

            “You could turn to your tarot cards. They may help you find the answers you need.”

            Adam nodded. He supposed he could turn to the cards. It would help him figure out what he needed to do to find answers at the very least. However, he felt like he needed something that delved deeper into his subconscious. “What about scrying?” He asked.

            Maura pressed her lips into a thin a line and shook her head. “Scrying is very dangerous. I don’t like to use it unless it’s necessary. Who will be there to pull you back if your soul wanders too far from your body? Not only that, but there are other...spirits just waiting to use us to contact the outside world. It’s too dangerous for someone as new to this as you.”

            That was how Persephone had died and Maura reminding him of that fact felt like poking a still-raw wound. It hurt.

            “Try your tarot deck before you try anything more dangerous, like scrying.”

            Adam stood up, grabbing his keys off of the table. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for your help.”

            Adam got back to his room and sat with his tarot deck in front of him. He studied the cards he pulled and tried to get a clear answer.

            He stared at them for so long that Gansey left for his classes, leaving him alone.

            With a sigh, he sat back and rubbed his eyes. The deck wasn't helping him with anything but blurring the colors of each card together.

            He needed more answers.

            Maura had told him to consult his tarot deck first. He had and he’d come up empty-handed. It was time to try something more extreme.

            Adam got what was left of the grape juice from Gansey's fridge and poured it into a shallow Tupperware dish. Then, he sat down at his desk and stared into the purple abyss until reality started to fade away. 

 

* * *

 

            Ronan wasn't attached to his cell phone and all of his friends knew it. They hardly tried to contact him on it anyway, because they knew their messages and calls would go completely ignored. 

            The only time he ever used it was when he was driving in his car. He liked to listen to music. He enjoyed the thud of the bass against his leg as the speaker pounded with abuse. He liked the way the beat could make the pumping of his heart speed up. It made him feel _alive_.

            He thought maybe it had gotten stolen in the melee of dancing bodies and drunk partygoers, but nobody had gotten close enough to him to even think about stealing it. 

            Except for Adam.

            But Adam hadn’t even gotten close to him until they were in his dorm. Ronan’s pants and jacket had been hastily discarded until he’d picked them up the next day from beneath the bed. Which meant...his phone was probably under Adam’s bed.

            He swore and climbed into the car. He made sure the slamming of the door shook the entire vehicle. He also left two black lines on the pavement outside of his apartment building just because he could.

            When he got to the dorm, he found the door unlocked. He knocked, but there was no answer. So, he twisted the knob and let himself in.

            Gansey’s bed was messy and his duffel bag carelessly dumped across the rumpled duvet, signifying that he’d returned from his parents’ residence in one piece.

            Adam sat at his desk, staring into a bowl of…”Parrish, is that grape juice?”

            If he heard him, the human didn’t acknowledge him.

            He’d seen a lot of things since his creation, but Ronan had never seen somebody stare into a bowl of juice like they were somewhere else altogether. Curiously, he moved forward and stared at Adam’s face.

            He waved a cautious hand in front of his unblinking blue eyes. “You creepy bastard,” he muttered before he took a step back. He didn’t know if he should shake him or wake him up from whatever trance he was in.

            With a soft curse, Ronan reached out for Adam’s shoulder. His fingers hovered just above the soft cotton of his t-shirt when the young man spoke.

            “Well, if it isn’t daddy’s little angel.”

            Ronan felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. He pulled his hand back and stared at Adam. Adam had spoken, but his lips hadn’t moved. Adam had spoken but the voice that had come from his unmoving lips hadn’t been his voice at all.

            It had been the voice that had been haunting him for decades.

            “Surprised, Lynch? Don’t you remember me?” Kavinsky’s voice asked from Adam’s lips.

            Oh, Ronan remembered him, all right. It would have been impossible for him to forget someone like Kavinsky.

            “Cat got your tongue?”

            Dread filled Ronan with each word that was spoken from Adam’s  unmoving lips. Kavinsky had been killed because of him. He’d been killed because Ronan had loved him, even though he was a Nephilim. He’d been sent to Hell not once, but twice and it had been Ronan’s fault each time.

            Nothing good could come out of Kavinsky being in contact with him here.

 Ronan finally found his voice. He clenched his fists at his sides and through gritted teeth, he snarled, "get the fuck out of him, K." 

            “Don’t worry,” he replied, amused. “I will. Your new little toy will be safe and sound...for now. When I get topside again, you and I are going to light that little fucking town on fire. Got it?”

            “Fuck off! You’re not going to be anywhere near this town.”

            Kavinsky’s laugh was raspy and hoarse. “We’ll see, Lynch. We’ll see.”

            Ronan was scared. The first time Kavinsky had come back to earth had been half-a-decade of bad decisions blurred by drugs and alcohol. He’d done terrible things like committed arson, stole cars, and robbed people.

            He didn’t want to do it again.

            He _couldn’t_ do it again.

            He was an angel again. Such behavior would have dire consequences for him and the humans he cared about in this town.

            “I’m going to tell you one more time,” Ronan growled, “get the fuck out of him!”

            “You’re quite possessive of your new toy, huh? Don’t worry, once I get ahold of him he won’t be so shiny and new anymore. I’ll see you again, Ronan. It’s only a matter of time.”

            Adam slumped forward on the table hard enough to almost knock the bowl of grape juice over.

            Ronan reached out and shook his shoulder, his heart racing. “Adam? Adam, can you hear me?” _Come on, come on, wake up!_ The adrenaline and fear left him feeling skittish and shaky. He hoped that Adam was okay.

            A soft sound slipped from Adam’s lips, a low groan.

            The angel exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He stopped shaking Adam and stepped back so the blond could sit up.

            Adam blinked blearily a few times, his eyes sweeping around the room before they stopped on Ronan. “Ronan?” He asked. “What...what are you doing here?”

            “I left my phone,” he replied. “Do you mind explaining what the fuck was happening here?”

            “I was scrying, searching for answers about the dreams I’ve been having. I’ve done it a few times before but...it had never gone like that before.”

            “What happened?” He wondered if Adam knew he’d been used as a mouthpiece for a demon.

            Adam’s brow furrowed. “I-I don’t remember. I was scrying, like normal, and then something started to chase me. Whatever it was gave me a really bad feeling. Like, _really_ bad.”

            “Did it catch you?”

            “I don’t remember.”

            Adam didn’t know he’d been possessed, or somewhat possessed, by Kavinsky. He couldn’t remember if the bad energy had caught him or not.

            Ronan knew that bad energy had been Kavinsky. He knew it had caught him. He just didn’t know if she should say anything to him about it.

            “Just...be careful.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is a line in the song "Fire" by Barns Courtney.


	10. Busting my Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who is putting off going grocery shopping to update fanfic instead? Me!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your loving comments and kudos! You guys are the greatest!

            For the past few weeks, Ronan had felt like he should leave Henrietta. He had put it off for a few reasons, his friends being one of them. Now, he _knew_ he should leave town because of Adam. However, he also couldn’t leave town because of Adam.

            Kavinsky knew where Adam was. He knew that Ronan had formed some sort of attachment to him. Which, put the old soul in immediate danger.

            Ronan's ex-lover had been building up nearly a century and a half of spite. Sure, the two of them had gotten along in the seventies, but that had been before Declan had shown up and fucked things up again. So, those five years probably meant nothing to Kavinsky at all, in hindsight. If anything, they gave him more of a reason to be pissed.

Kavinsky wasn’t going to let the pissing match between the two of them go very easily.  

            Ronan didn't think Adam realized he was in any sort of immediate danger. So, he'd been doing the only thing he could think of to ensure Adam's safety.

            It wasn’t stalking. It was watching from a distance.

            Whatever it was, it made Ronan feel like a fucking creep. He just kept telling himself that popping in to check on Adam every few hours was ensuring his safety. It wasn't like he watched Adam change his clothes, take a shower, or anything creepy like that.

            It had been going on for about a week. Every few hours, Ronan would fly to Adam’s location and check on him. It wasn’t hard. Adam was only ever three places when he wasn’t in class. He didn’t live a very exciting life. He was either at Boyd’s, the Stop ‘n Shop, or in his dorm room.

            Flying fucking sucked. It hurt like a bitch, even if it only took him a few seconds to get from point A to point B. He hadn’t flown this much since getting his wings strapped to his back and it wasn’t exactly comfortable.

            The pain and discomfort were worth it as long he was ensuring Adam's safety.

            Every time he questioned whether or not he was being overprotective, he remembered the way Kavinsky's voice had sounded coming from Adam's mouth. The memory sent chills up his arms and left him with a sick feeling in his gut.

            Adam and Joe were night and day, light and dark, apples and broccoli.

            Adam was cautious, never intentionally disrupting or upsetting anybody. He moved and spoke carefully, selecting his words with caution. He acted like he was working around a nuclear bomb and was always worried about setting it off. He was suntanned skin, freckles, bright blue eyes, and a soft smile.

            Kavinsky was a nuke, hell-bent on causing destruction in his wake, casualties be damned. He thrived on chaos, mischief, and turmoil. He was paper white skin, yellow teeth, and black eyes. 

            Ronan wouldn’t allow Adam, Gansey, Blue, or any of his friends to be a casualty of war. The only way Kavinsky would hurt them was if he stepped of Ronan’s dead body to get to them.

            Adam was working at Boyd’s again. He was oblivious to Ronan watching him from behind a small outbuilding across the small dusty lot that held Boyd’s prized 1953 Buick Roadmaster Skylark. Ronan had seen the car plenty of times back then, each time it had only been driven by pretentious assholes who felt they had something to prove. Now, they were a collector’s item, one that Boyd had probably paid a pretty penny to have.

            Ronan was silent as he watched Adam work. He looked fucking amazing in his greasy coveralls, his skilled hands automatically knowing what tool to grab, the concentrated furrow in his brow made him seem lost in thought.

            The angel _really_ wanted to kiss him.

            “Are you going to come in and say hi or are you going to keep watching me from behind the shed?” Adam called out to him without looking up from sifting through the messy pile of sockets in the toolbox.

            _Damn his psychic intuition,_ Ronan thought bitterly. With a scowl and a sigh, he buried his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and did his best to seem nonchalant as he rounded the shed and walked across the lot toward the open garage door.

            He didn't say anything as he lounged against an old Pontiac.

            Adam found the socket he needed and attached it to the end of his wrench. He grabbed a tire and heaved it up, putting it on the car before he set to fastening the bolts in place.

            Ronan couldn’t help but watch Adam’s fingers as they gave a sharp twist to this or that bolt, gripped the handle of the wrench, or wiped grease on his already filthy work uniform. His mouth went dry, remembering how _very_ capable those fingers were against his skin.

            Adam finished bolting the tire on and turned to face Ronan. He had a smear of dirt across one elegant cheekbone. His dusty hair was a disheveled mess. When he unzipped his coveralls and pulled his arms out, rolling them down the waist, it revealed that Adam was practically sweating to death under his white t-shirt.

            Ronan almost had a stroke.

            “What are you doing here, Ronan?” He finally asked.

            He knew that somehow “watching from a distance” wouldn’t go over well with Adam. So, he shrugged. “I wanted to see you.” It wasn’t a lie.

            Adam's head was cocked a little to the side as he listened to him. He licked his lips and gave a nod as if Ronan's shitty explanation explained everything. His index finger of his left hand reached up and brushed against his earlobe uncertainly. Finally, he looked at Ronan again and stepped closer. "I can't stop thinking about the other night."

            Ronan swallowed and watched him come closer, heat building in his chest. “Neither can I,” he finally confessed.

            Adam’s blue eyes looked out away from Ronan, to the empty lot, as if he was remembering some sort of distant memory. Then, they were back on Ronan’s face. He let out a great sigh, like someone letting air out of a balloon. Then, he leaned in and pressed their lips together.

            His shirt is wet and warm with sweat beneath Ronan's hands. Adam's chapped lips bit into his own with the intensity of their kiss. Ronan's back burned painfully as Adam pressed him into the steel of the Pontiac. He didn't care. The burn only made the fire in his chest burn brighter.

            _Wrong, wrong, wrong_ , Ronan thought to himself as his hands found Adam’s hips and pulled him closer. _This is all wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this_.

            When they finally parted, Ronan sucked in air like he had just been saved from drowning. He looked at Adam and had to wait for the planets to realign themselves before he could even think about making a coherent sentence.

            Adam looked at him and took a step back, allowing Ronan more room to breathe. “Have...have you been following me?”

            The angel didn’t know how to answer that question. He _had_ been following Adam for almost an entire week. He wondered if Adam had sensed his energy and if that’s how the man knew, or if he was just that perceptive to be able to figure it out.

            He didn’t want to lie, so he said nothing instead.

            The silence seemed to frustrate Adam even more than an actual answer would have. He just gave a disbelieving smirk and shook his head. “If you have questions you can ask me, okay? You don’t have to spy on me to try and get your answers.”

            Ronan’s brow furrowed. What the fuck was he talking about?

            "What you saw me doing last week was scrying, okay? It wasn't worshipping Lucifer or anything like that."

            Of course, he didn’t think Adam was worshipping Lucifer. His brother was trapped in Hell, courtesy of Michael. Sure, Lucifer had some followers but they were far and few between these days. Christianity itself was a dying breed.

            The angel’s mouth turned up, he let out an amused chuckle.

            Adam’s face shifted into a scowl. “What is so funny?”

            “You don’t look like a Satanist.”

            “So why are you following me? I’m a psychic, Ronan. I don’t have to physically see you to know that you’re there. You’ve been following me all week!”

            “I’m just worried about you,” Ronan finally said. Not only was he worried about Adam because of what Kavinsky had said, but he was worried about him because Ronan’s family wouldn’t take very well to him hooking up with a human.

            Adam let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, a motion he had probably learned from Gansey. He looked exhausted. The skin beneath his eyes was dark and bruise-like. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

            Something about that remark rubbed the angel the wrong way. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at Adam. “I’m not your fucking babysitter. I was just worried about you, okay?”

            “I don’t need you to worry about me!” The man snapped in response. “I like you, okay? I like you a lot and I really liked what happened between us last week, but I don’t need you to follow me around like a lost puppy.”

            "Excuse the fuck out of me for being concerned," Ronan spat back before he could stop himself. He pushed off of the Pontiac and stormed past Adam, brushing shoulders as he went.

            “Ronan--”

            “Fuck off, Adam.”

            The night air was starting to cool down from the humidity of the day. Ronan didn’t bother to look over his shoulder as he rounded the corner of the garage before spreading his wings and taking off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This song has been stuck in my head since Thursday, so I decided to use it for this weekend's update. The chapter's title is from a line in the song 'Whiskey Fever' by Dorothy.


	11. Can't Escape This Ricochet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it Wednesday already?! 
> 
> Time sure does fly when you're working a full time job, studying for your board exams, and writing a badass fanfic! 
> 
> This chapter is a bit longer to make up for last chapter. Read and enjoy, lovelies!

            By the time Adam clocked out after his shift at the Stop ‘n Shop he felt like he had to tape his eyelids open.

            When midterms had come around, he thought he had been tired between work and school. Looking back at it, it was laughable that he had thought he’d tired back that. If he had been tired then, he was exhausted to the bone now.

            The nightmares weren't getting better. It wasn't even a different nightmare every night. It was the same one time and time again. No matter how hard Adam tried to wake himself up, he couldn't. The only time his eyes ever snapped open when the flaming blade ran through his chest.

            The feeling was so real that he often woke up to a pulsing pain right in the center of his chest.

            Even though he was exhausted, he found himself weighing the pros and cons of staying up all night. If he stayed up he could get more of his homework done and he could avoid having nightmares. If he slept, there was a slim chance that he wouldn’t wake up more exhausted than he already was and he would be able to stay awake in his classes.

            He didn’t know which option sounded better.

            He started up his car. The engine gave a whine in protest, but he ignored it the way he’d been ignoring it for the past six weeks. He knew what was wrong with it. He knew how to fix it. The problem was that the part was expensive to replace and every cent he had was funneled into paying the part of his tuition the partial scholarship wouldn’t cover.

            It was just him, his car, and the rain on the two-lane highway that led back to Henrietta. The Stop ‘n Shop was just a few miles out of town, not an inconvenient distance for the town’s residence or the college students.

            His thumb rubbed against the smooth plastic of the steering wheel as he drove, his mind circling around the events of the day.

            Ronan had been following him for practically an entire week. He had told Adam that he’d been worried about him, which was endearing to a point but more annoying in others.

            Adam had spent his entire life growing up with abusive and negligent parents. He’d been spit on by the kids in his high school for being white trash and pitied by the townspeople for being poor. Only when he started to embrace his psychic side did he start to feel comfortable in his own skin, more confident in who he was.

            He’d spent his entire life without Ronan’s protection. He didn’t need it now.

            Part of him thought that maybe the dark haired man thought he needed protecting because he’d walked in on him scrying. Which, Adam could almost understand. Scrying was creepy to people who hadn’t ever seen it performed before.

            Either way, he didn’t need or want to be hovered over like a toddler.

            If he caught Ronan watching him again he wouldn’t know whether to be flattered or to call the cops.

            Adam rubbed his eyes tiredly. He watched the lines blur in and out of focus.

            He was fighting to keep his eyes open when his car lurched hard to one side of the road accompanied by the sound of crunching metal.

            "What the hell?" He demanded looking in the rearview. He thought maybe somebody had gotten too close to his rear bumper but was the only one on the road. At first, he didn't see the figure in the blackness of the night, but when he hit the brakes the monster was illuminated by the red glow of the tail lights.

            He could really see it in the rearview. It looked like some sort of half bird, half man creature. It parted its beak and let out a shriek that sounded like nails grating across a chalkboard before it spread its massive wings and launched off of the car, causing it to lurch again.

            “What the _hell_?!” Adam demanded, glancing in the rearview once more. His heart was running a marathon in his chest, his fingers felt numb with fear.

            Was he imagining things? He had to be imagining things. That was the only thing that made sense.

            He risked one more look in the rearview, afraid that the creature was going to be back. It revealed nothing but empty road behind him. That made him sigh in relief. He’d been imagining things.

            Adam looked back out the windshield just as the car rocked with another solid _crunch_.

            The creature was on his hood. It’s beak parted and let out a series of high-pitched clicks that could be heard through the windshield. Its claws pierced the hood where it latched on. Its red eyes focused on Adam and it let out a murderous shriek.

            His heart was in his throat. Terrified, he reflexively yanked the wheel hard to the right.

The car caught a deeper spot of water on the side of the room and hydroplaned out of control. No matter what Adam tried in order to keep from hitting the ditch, it made no difference.

             It happened so fast that he hardly had time to process it, but it all seemed to run in slow motion at the time. All of the sound seemed to be sucked out of the cab of the car as he hit the other side of the ditch. The car rebounded off of the ditch and rolled back onto the road in a move that should have defied the laws of physics.

The creature was flung off of the car and into several dozen feet down the wet road, on the other side of the double yellow lines.

            Adam saw wet pavement, sky, wet pavement, a telephone pole, and wet pavement again.

            As the car slammed into the telephone pole the sound seemed to find its way back to Adam’s hearing ear again.

           The entire car shuddered mightily as it hit the wooden pole. He couldn’t watch the pole fall because the shitbox was upside down, but he heard the thunderous crack of the wood and the terrible sound as it splintered.

            The hondoyota buckled with a pitiful sound as the top of the pole landed on the bottom of the car,

            There were two blissful seconds where Adam didn't feel anything. Then, it all hit him at once.

            There was a sharp pain in his gut so severe that he couldn't breathe. The steering wheel was crushing him. Each breath he took was like a white-hot strike of lightning in his gut and up his ribcage. He was afraid to look, but a glance down revealed a screwdriver embedded in his the upper part of his right thigh from where his toolkit had upended in the passenger seat. His brain felt foggy and he could feel the warmth of blood running down his left temple. The taste of his own blood was bitter and tasted like copper in his mouth.

            A glance to his left revealed a cracked driver’s side window. The door was crushed and caved in. He wouldn’t be able to open the door and he couldn’t move enough to unbuckle himself. If he did, he risked hurting himself further by either hitting his head against the roof of the car below him or further cramming his abdomen onto the steering wheel.

            The roads were completely barren this time of night and who knew where his cellphone had ended up in the rollover.

            The one surviving headlight illuminated the monster sprawled on the road several yards out.

            Adam couldn’t really see what it was, but fear has him in an ice-cold grip.

            The monster shuddered on the wet pavement. Then, it started to stand.

            His bloody hands reached up and pushed against the roof of the car.

            Just that little movement sent pain ripping through him so intense that his vision blurred. He knew his organs were suffering from severe internal damage from the steering wheel. The airbag hadn’t deployed to soften the impact. He didn’t even know if the car had one.

            The fact that he didn’t think he’d hurt his mouth and he could taste blood was almost as terrifying as the creature that had managed to claw its way to its feet in the road.

            He sucked in a pained breath. It was tinged with the acrid smell of melting wires and plastic.

            Somewhere, just a few feet away, in the crushed engine compartment, the car was on fire.

            If his injuries didn’t kill him, the fire and smoke inhalation would...if the monster didn’t get to him first.

            _Someone_ , he thought desperately, _please help me._

            The creature clicked it's sharp beak at him and limped towards the car. In the cracked and wet windshield, it looked like it had morphed into three or four creatures.

            He was going to die, Adam just knew it.

            The smell of smoke and blood was choking him. It was becoming harder to breathe. Each breath in sent a sharp pain through his sides, he could hardly move, entrapped by the steering wheel.

            Something solid and loud landed on the bottom of the car. His boots rocked with the force of the impact.

            His first thought was that that _thing_ limping closer to the car had a friend. The second was, _I’m going to die_.

            Adam gripped the seatbelt and gave it a fruitless tug. The monsters were going to eat him and he was stuck in the car like a rat in a trap. He didn’t want to die!

            A thud sounded on the pavement outside of the bloody and cracked window next to Adam’s head.

            He stilled and slowly looked to his left. He expected to see a second set of claws just a few inches from his face, but instead, he found a pair of well-worn boots.

            It wasn’t a monster. It was a man.

            He can’t see the man’s face as he walked towards the creature. His back was to him, clad in a leather jacket. He carried himself with a silently, cold fury that Adam doesn’t really understand. In his hand, he held a sword. It glinted violently in the illumination of the dying headlight.

            A _sword_.

            The trapped man’s first thought was _why does he have a sword_? The second was, _that is definitely smoke._

            Adam didn’t know if everything was a blur because of the smoke and the rain, the pain, or because he had a concussion from smashing the side of his head against the driver’s side window. Perhaps, it was a combination of all three, but he could swear that the man with the sword had wings. _Wings_.

            His eyes burned from the smoke and the pain in his gut was so intense that he couldn’t think of anything else. Still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away as the man cut the monster down with a swift, well-practiced motion.

            The entire world shifted in and out of focus for a brief moment. The darkness of unconsciousness was reaching for him. If it meant the pain would stop just for a minute or two, Adam embraced it. His world faded to black just as the man with wings turned back toward the car.

            When he opened his eyes again Ronan was there, crouched low next to the driver’s side window. He was peering in at Adam, concern written across his face.

            If he hadn’t been in so much pain, Adam would have thought what it would have meant that Ronan was there. He would have realized that it had meant Ronan was following him again, even after he’d asked him to stop.

            He didn’t think about that at all. All he could think about was how bad he hurt, about how the blood in his mouth wouldn’t stop and he was choking on it.

            “Adam,” Ronan called, his voice muffled by the cracked class. “Can you hear me?”

            Adam turned his head and looked at him from his upside-down vantage point. Tears added to the smoke's burn in his eyes. He tried to swallow the blood pooling in his mouth so he could reply. "I-It hurts so bad," he managed. It was hard to talk through the pain, the tightness in his throat, and the blood. "I'm sc-scared."

            Ronan seemed to age twenty years at Adam’s words. His hand touched the glass lightly. “You’re going to be okay. I promise that you’re going to be okay.”

            He didn’t point that out. There was no point. Surely, Ronan knew he wasn’t going to be okay. Acknowledging it wouldn’t do anything but make both of them feel worse. So, he just nodded slightly, accepting it. “Thanks,” he coughed out.

            God, he was tired. He was too tired to keep his eyes open. He let them fall closed.

            He was too tired to open his eyes when he heard the groan of twisted metal and the sound of glass shattering as it was tossed to the ground.

            When he did open his eyes again, he was lying on the wet pavement. Ronan was kneeling over him, a furrow warping his handsome brow. His face was bathed in an orange glow from the burning car several feet away.

            “It...hurts so bad,” Adam whispered. The blood filling his mouth was choking him. With each breath he took in, pain ripped through his gut. He was dying.

            “I know,” Ronan replied quietly, “I’m sorry.”

            Adam’s lips twitched upward in a sad smile. “I’m dying, Ronan. I know I am. I’m going to die.”

            “You’re not going to die. I’m not letting you die.”

            A bitter chuckle left his lips. Adam regretted it instantly.  He nearly passed out from how badly it hurt.

            The sound of sirens came faintly from the distance. They were still so far away. Even if they managed to get to him while he was still alive, the chances of him surviving the drive to the hospital and the surgery were slim to none.

            Ronan frowned in the direction of the sirens, surely thinking the same thing Adam was. He looked back at Adam and reached out. He pressed two fingertips gently to his forehead.

            For a second or two warmth coursed through his body from his head to his toes. Then, as Ronan lifted his fingers away, it didn’t hurt anymore.

            Adam looked at his arm, which had been scratched up from the cracked window. There no longer was any sign that he’d scraped it. He flexed his fingers, expecting pain from the seatbelt in his arm muscles. Nothing.

            He turned his bewildered gaze to Ronan. “ _How_?!”

            Ronan gave him a smile. “You need to rest.”

            “Rest? Ronan, I was just dying and now--”

            He pressed his fingertips to Adam’s forehead again.

            Adam’s argument died on his tongue as he instantly plunged headlong into unconsciousness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is from a line in ZZ Ward's song, 'Til the Casket Drops'.


	12. Angels Choking on Their Halos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of my Declan lovers this chapter is for you!
> 
> Just so you guys know, this song that holds the lyrics for this chapter's title is LITERALLY the inspiration of this fic. I'm not going to lie. I was listening to music in the shower one day and it came to me. I was like...badass. So, do me a favor and think of this fic when and if you listen to this song!

            When Ronan heard Adam call out he'd been trying to teach Chainsaw how to bring him his car keys. It was a trick that would be useful when he forgot where he fucking put them like he tended to frequently do.

            He had heard Adam's voice loud and clear. Maybe he hadn't known he'd prayed, maybe           he was just so desperate that his thought had turned into a prayer. He’d said, “ _Somebody, please help me_.”  

            Ronan had grabbed his sword and taken off without a second thought. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into, whether it be drug dealers, demons, or angels. Whatever it had been, he’d been prepared to fight.

            It had been a demon.

            Killing it had been easy. Seeing Adam broken and dying, crushed by the steering wheel of his car, had been harder.

            Ronan had pulled him out and healed him. Then, he’d waited until the ambulance had shown up to leave.

            He didn’t know where the demon had come from, but wherever it had come from he knew it wasn’t good. Demons couldn’t come to Earth unless a gate to Hell had been opened. Usually, they flooded Earth and caused way more chaos than this particular demon had.

            It meant two things. The first was that a gate to Hell had been opened _very_ briefly. The second was that whatever had come through had been quick to close it, so not to draw attention to itself.

            After Kavinsky’s threatening message it was too coincidental.

            The ley lines masked Ronan’s energy and made it easy for him to hide from the angels, but not _that_ easy.

            There was no way the lines would have been able to conceal that much demonic energy. Which meant that there would be an angel coming to town and Ronan was _not_ looking forward to seeing any of his siblings again.

            The sun was hot and unforgiving against Ronan’s bare shoulders as he stood on the empty stretch of road where Adam’s car had crashed the night before.

            The road was empty, the smoldering remains of the car had been cleaned up and the fire department had left sometime in the early morning. The only evidence of the crash was the twinkle of shattered glass, identical skid marks on the blacktop, and a black scorch mark where Adam’s shitbox had caught on fire.

            Ronan crouched over top of the skid marks, his fingertips pressing to the sun-warmed pavement. His eyes followed them to where they vanished off the road. He tried to imagine what had happened the night before, tried to envision what Adam had experienced.

            If he had to wager a guess, it hadn’t been pretty.

            He sighed and rested his arms on his thighs when he heard the flap of wings. Ronan didn’t have to turn his head to know it was Declan. Declan, who seemed to follow him around like a storm cloud.

            Every time Declan showed up, it was hardly ever good news. Usually, he appeared to Ronan to give him his next assignment. Which meant, that somebody was going to die. That, and things were still tense between them after Declan had told Michael about Ronan's affair with Kavinsky and gotten his wings chopped off.

            “Ronan,” his brother said, “I’d like to speak with you.”

            He stood up and turned around to give his brother a cool look. “You want something, you mean.”

            Whenever Declan wanted to “speak” with him, he wanted something else. He wanted Ronan’s boyfriend, his wings, or for him to kill Nephilim.

            Granted, Declan was doing his job. He was appointed as Ronan’s advisor, his superior. Still, it was annoying that he never seemed able to break the rules.

            Ronan's older brother looked out of place. Standing in the middle of the two-lane road in a freshly pressed gray suit and tie, he looked like a businessman trying to buy the town so he could bulldoze it to the grown for his next casino.

            “I _want_ to speak with you,” Declan repeated.

            Ronan glared at him and extended his black wings. He didn't grimace at the pain in his back. He wouldn't let Declan know how bad it still hurt.

            Declan mirrored his motion, his wings whiter than a freshly fallen snow.

            They were polar opposites, the brothers. One was light, the other was dark.

            “Follow me,” Ronan spat before taking to the sky.

           

* * *

 

            Ronan’s meeting place of choice was one that Declan was sure to hate. It gave him a silent pleasure to see his brother so out of place among the day-drinking locals in the haze of the cigarette smoke.

            Ronan sat on a bar stool and ordered a whiskey.

            Declan scowled at Ronan, “you want to have your meeting _here_?”

            Ronan shrugged and slid a five dollar bill across the polished counter to the bartender. “Is there a problem with it?”

            “Several.”

            He gave him a shark-toothed grin and brought his drink to his lips. He embraced the silky burn as the whiskey slid down his throat. “Would you like a drink, brother?”

            Declan looked like he’d rather step in dog shit. “Drinking is barbaric.”

            His coy grin grew even further. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a perfect angel.”

            His brother's expression hardened even further, clearly not amused by Ronan's joke.

            The younger angel couldn’t help but let out a chuckle before taking another drink.

            Declan’s serious expression didn’t falter as he moved closer to Ronan. He was standing so close to him that he could smell the scent of ozone on him from his descent from Heaven. When he spoke he spoke in hushed tones so the humans couldn’t overhear. “There was a demon in the area last night.”

            “Two,” Ronan replied. “I took care of it.”

            “Where did it come from?”

            “Hell, obviously.”

            Declan’s voice should have made the whiskey in his glass freeze over completely. Which, was no easy feat. “You know that’s not what I mean. I’m glad you still have your cynical sense of humor, brother, but this is very serious.”

            “I know,” he snapped back. “I’ll find out.”

            “I suggest you do. You wouldn’t want one of our older brothers coming down here, would you?”

            That was the _last_ thing Ronan wanted. Especially, since he’d grown so fond of the town and the people in it.

            The last time one of the Archangels came to visit a town with a demon problem, all of the town’s citizens had vanished without a trace. One of the merchants returning from a supply run in England had returned to an empty town.

            “You _will_ find out where the gate to Hell has been opened, Ronan.” Declan informed him, “and you will find out why.”

            Ronan bristled at the order. He didn’t like being bossed around by his brother, which was one of the reasons he had spent the better half of a decade running and hiding.

            “I said I’d take care of it!” He snapped at Declan.

            “And you will continue to ‘take care of it’ or you will face the repercussions of your actions. Surely, you don’t need to be reminded of them.”

            Ronan felt his already black mood darken even further. He fixed his brother with a hard glare. How dare he bring up the day he’d gotten his wings ripped from his back. How dare he bring up the day he’d been thrown from Heaven.

            Declan seemed to sense Ronan’s cold fury and he gave a resigned sigh before helping himself to a sip of Ronan’s whiskey, the barbaric nature of alcohol be damned. “I didn’t want to be there when they mutilated you. I didn’t want that to happen, Ronan. I had no choice but to report you to my superiors.”

            “Fuck off,” he spat venomously. “Don’t worry about me. I always seem to catch the shit-end of the stick when you do.”

            “Ronan, I’m doing my best to protect you. I didn’t like being there when you had your wings cut off and I don’t want it to happen again. So, if you keep this entire situation under wraps, the Archangels won’t hear about it and intervene.” He paused and studied his brother once more, “I don’t know what you’ve been up to for the past few years, but you’ve been eerily quiet. It makes me think you’ve been up to no good.”

            Ronan wanted nothing more than to spit another witty response at his brother, but he couldn’t think of anything.

            He had fallen for a human. He had made human friends. He had made supernatural friends. All of which, were frowned upon by the angels. Of course, he’d been up to no good in the eyes of his brother. He wasn’t about to openly admit that, though.

            Declan took his younger brother’s silence as a confirmation and acceptance. He leaned in close to Ronan and muttered, “watch your back, brother.”

            Then, he was gone. He left nothing behind but the tickle his breath had left across Ronan’s ear.

            An old drunk a few barstools down stared wide-eyed at the spot where Declan had stood just a second before.

            Ronan wasn’t worried. If he had a few more drinks, he’d forget that it even happened

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was saving this song for a chapter title later but, this entire fic was inspired by this song. So PLEASE, if you wish, think of this fic when/if you listen to this song. Trust me, it goes with it even more later. 
> 
> This chapter's title is from Fall Out Boy's song, 'Just One Yesterday'.


	13. Fought My Way Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! 
> 
> As you may have noticed, this story got another chapter shorter. Unfortunately, there wasn't much meat on the bones of Chapter Fifteen. So, I combined it with Fourteen and I promise you it will be awesome!
> 
> Does anybody need Adam and Gansey broship feels? Well, here they are!

            Adam had never stayed in the hospital for more than a handful of hours on trips to the emergency room. That is, until after the crash.

            He had been exhausted and through bleary eyes and sleep-slurred words he had informed his nurses that he was fine. No, nothing hurt. Yeah, he hit his head but it wasn't bleeding. Yes, he'd been crushed by the steering wheel, but he was fine. It had felt worse than it really was.

            He’d had his vitals taken time and time again, he had CT scans of his head and abdomen, he had been forced to change out of his bloody clothes and into a hospital gown, and he was sent to the second floor of the hospital to rest and be kept track of.

            A few times he’d woken to the nurses checking on him. He had even faintly heard them talking about how he’d been sleeping a concerning amount for someone who didn’t have a concussion.

            Now that Adam was awake, he was remembering how much he hated hospitals and contemplating if he _really_ wanted to go to school to be a pediatric surgeon.

            Just the smell of the hospital alone was enough to make him feel like he was back at the general hospital a few dozen miles from where he’d grown up. It made him remember the fear in his stomach as his mother watched him with tightly pressed lips and a warning in her eyes, asking him not to say anything to the doctors.

            While he let the nurse check his vitals one more time he tried not to think about how much this trip to the hospital was going to cost him. He was a college student juggling two part-time jobs. He didn't have health insurance.

            His car was also totaled. There would be no amount of hammering or welding that would untwist the frame or restore the engine to what it had been before it had caught fire.

            He supposed he’d be stuck riding his bike back and forth from work and school for the next six years while he paid off his hospital bill.

            “Alright,” the nurse said standing up. She gave him a sweet smile. “You’re good to go home.”

            He exhaled a sigh of relief. Each hour that ticked past was a hefty hit on his already fragile wallet. “Thank you,” he said as she left.

            Adam leaned over the railing of the bed to the phone. He punched in a number that he knew by heart and was more than relieved when Gansey answered almost immediately. “Can you come get me from the hospital? Do you think you could grab me some clothes?”

            Thirty minutes later, Gansey appeared in the doorway to his hospital room, Blue at his side.

            Her eyes looked Adam up and down, scrutinizing him. Once she seemed to be satisfied with his lack of injuries, she hurled herself at him and wrapped him in a hug. “Oh, Adam! I’m so glad you’re okay.”

            Adam hugged her back. Her hair smelled of sage and cinnamon, the comforting scent of 300 Fox Way. Then, he released her. “Me too.”

             “We saw your car sitting at Boyd’s when we drove by. It’s completely totaled. There’s no saving it. Adam, it looked like it had been on _fire_.”

            “I know,” he said quietly. He looked up and saw Gansey watching him. His friend stood with his arms folded, one of his thumbs brushed against his lower lip thoughtfully.

            Gansey seemed to notice Adam was looking at him and he met his friend’s gaze from behind his wireframe glasses and smiled. He could see the unasked question in his eyes.

           “I’m fine,” he promised his friend. _I shouldn’t be, though_ , he added silently. He should be dead. He should have extensive trauma to his abdomen, he should have some sort of bruises from the crash. He didn’t.

           He could still remember the salt and copper taste of blood in his own mouth. He hadn’t been able to breathe because it had hurt so badly. He had known he’d been going to die.

            He didn’t think it was. It had been much too real for that.

            Gansey gave him a smile that was tinged with worry and exhaustion. “Good,” he said. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

            “I’ll try my best,” he responded wryly.

He held out his fist and Adam bumped it automatically before accepting a plastic bag full of clothes from Gansey.

                        He changed into his jeans and a sweatshirt. It felt good to be in his own clothes instead of the scratchy, revealing hospital gown. He definitely wasn’t a fan of having his ass out for everyone in the entire world to see.

            Once the three of them were in the Pig, Adam closed his eyes and rested his head against the back seat. The vibrations of the rumbling car were familiar and relaxing. He hadn't realized just how tense being in the hospital had made him.

            “Adam,” Gansey called from the front, “what happened?”

            Adam tried to remember everything he could about the night before. Many of the details were obscured and foggy. He had been driving home when he’d hit something. That was as good of a place to start the tale off as any.

            He inhaled deeply before saying, “I was on my way home from work when I hit something.” Had it been a man? No...it had been something else. “It was some sort of big animal. My car hydroplaned and ended up going into a ditch before rolling out of it and onto the road.” After that, things really started to get foggy. “Um...somebody pulled me out of the car before the fire department got there. I can’t remember who...but I feel like if I saw them again and I’d remember who it was. After that, they took me to the hospital.”

            “Christ,” Gansey murmured.

            Adam nodded and closed his eyes again. The hospital stay wasn't going to be cheap and the ambulance bill was going to make it even more expensive. It was time to get his bike out of Blue's shed in the backyard, he supposed until he paid off his bills and bought a new car.

            “Here,” Blue said from the front seat. She twisted around and held something out for him to take. “We brought you a sandwich. Hospital food sucks.”

            “Blue--” his objection died on his tongue.

            Blue was scrutinizing him with an expression that very much made her look like Maura Sargent. It was stern but motherly, her eyes were full of hope and relief.

            The last thing he wanted to do was make her lose that hopeful look. He accepted the sandwich, “thanks.”

            While he ate he thought about the night before. He had slept a lot, the nurses had said. So, maybe some of the more blurred parts of his memory were dreams. There were parts of the night that felt like they should have been dreams. The monster, the man with wings, the sword, and seeing Ronan there, all felt like they were made up.

            Especially, since he had snapped at Ronan just hours before that.

            Lately, Adam had gotten good at deciphering dreams from reality. In his experience, dreams were realistic, but they _never_ hurt as badly as they had the night before. That led him to believe that they weren’t actually dreams at all and something fishy was going on.

            They dropped Blue off at Fox Way and Adam got his bike from the shed.

            When Blue hugged him again he didn't object. Instead, he let her hug him before he threw his bike in the Camaro's trunk and slid into the passenger seat.

            The ride back to the dorm was silent.

            Once they were in their room Adam set the plastic bag full of his ruined clothes on the desk. He was going to have to email his teachers and get the notes and assignments he had missed while he’d been in the hospital.

            The thought of all of his extra school work piling up was enough to stress him out. He sighed and rubbed his index finger along his deaf ear.

            As if he could read his mind, Gansey said, “you don’t have to worry about your classes.”

            “What? Why?”

            “When I found out that you were in the hospital, I sent all of your professors an email. Most of them sent you the notes that you missed and excused you from your assignments.”

            Typically, Gansey taking care of his problems for him would have annoyed him. He didn’t need somebody else’s help to get his classes sorted out for him. But, he did appreciate this gesture because it meant he could get right into catching up instead of lagging behind while he tried to get all of his notes.

            He gave Gansey a tired smile, “thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

            "It was the least I could do. Are...you okay? Because I know that going through something like this is probably shocking."

            Adam chewed a piece of dead skin off of this chapped lower lip as he considered Gansey’s words. “I’m fine,” he said slowly, “but I shouldn’t be.” Then, he sat down at his desk and looked at the plastic bag full of his ruined clothes.

            Gansey sat down in his desk chair. He didn’t prod at Adam to continue. Instead, he plucked a mint leaf off of the plant on his desk and waited for his friend to continue on his own.

            “After the car came to a stop, it was upside down.” Things were starting to clear up. “I remember thinking that I was going to die. Gansey, I’ve never felt pain like that in my life. I was bleeding internally. I should be _dead_.”

            “I understand.”

            His brow furrowed and looked up at his friend. “You do?”

            Gansey’s eyes were bright behind his glasses and he nodded. “I do.”

            “How?”

            Gansey leaned back in his chair, his thumb brushing over his lip as he thought. “When I was younger, about ten or so, my family went to a dinner party. There were other kids there and even though I was older than most of them, I played hide-and-seek with them. I ventured out into the woods and stumbled across a nest of ground hornets.

            “I had been stung so many times that I couldn’t see, breathe, hear, or move. I laid in the woods listening to my heart slowing and there was nothing I could do about it. I knew I was going to die.”

            He was listening intently because obviously, his roommate hadn't died. He was here, alive.

            “Then, I heard a voice. I couldn’t open my eyes. The voice told me that I was going to be okay, that I was going to live. Then, I saw this blinding white light. When I woke up, I was in the hospital.”

            “Do you think you hallucinated it?”

            “Maybe,” Gansey said. “My parents seem to think so.”

            Their near-death experiences shared some similarities. Adam didn’t really believe in coincidences, but he did think it was a little odd.

            He also didn’t believe in God or angels.

            He wasn’t completely closed-off to the idea of religion, but he was pretty skeptical. He had a hard time believing in any God or deity that let him grow up in the shithole he had. Whatever guardian angel he had, deserved to be fired.

            Adam thought over the events of the night before and Gansey's words. He had been hurt. He had a feeling that he had probably hallucinated the part where Ronan had a sword. It seemed a little too far-fetched to be possible. Not only that, but why would he come to help him after Adam had told him to get lost at Boyd's?

            He reached into the bag on his desk and pulled out his tattered, bloody clothes. They were garbage and there was no point in attempting to salvage them. He stared at the bloody shirt with a resigned sigh before he tossed it into the trashcan by his desk.

            “These clothes,” he finally said as he held up his blood, torn jeans for Gansey to see, “they’re a mess. But I don’t have a single scratch on me. Who does this blood belong to if it isn’t mine?”

            His roommate frowned at that and looked at them. “I...I don’t know.”

            Adam exhaled a resigned sigh and threw them out. Then, he went to change from jeans into a pair of sweatpants. He paused when he looked at a jagged, pink, scar on his thigh. One that he had never seen before.

            “Something may have happened last night,” he said as his finger traced over the painless scar. “I’ve never had this scar before.” He turned so his friend could inspect the scar with his own eyes.

            Gansey leaned in closer to take a better look.

            It was starting to come back to Adam. “My toolkit was in the passenger seat.” He remembered seeing the yellow handle of the screwdriver sticking out of his leg. He remembered the throbbing, white-hot pain of it. “My screwdriver impaled me...but it’s a healed scar.”

            Something unusual happened the night before and Adam had a feeling the guy with the wings was the one responsible.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is titled after The Cab's song, 'Stand Up'.


	14. My Shadow is Over You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to give a shout out to noorasdandekar for commenting on the last few chapters and keeping me motivated! As I've said before, comments really give me the boost I need to really keep writing. Thank you so much!

            Ronan knew he should be busy trying to figure out how the fuck a gate to Hell had been opened so close to Henrietta, but skipping dinner dates at Nino’s with Gansey and the others felt blasphemous.

 He didn't commit himself too much, but gathering at their usual corner booth whenever Gansey got the urge to clog his arteries, was something that the angel couldn’t miss.

            “I really hope Adam doesn’t push himself too hard,” Blue said. She wasn’t working, so she was lounging next to Gansey on the bench. She played with her straw while she spoke.

            Adam’s name caught Ronan’s attention. For half a second, he was surprised that she knew the mechanic, but then he remembered that Adam was Gansey’s roommate. Of course, she knew him.

            Ronan didn’t add anything to their conversation. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest and slouched against the cracked vinyl of the booth so he could listen with apparent disinterest.

 Noah seemed aware of his act. He gave him a knowing didn’t blurt out the fact that Ronan had very _obviously_ the night of Cheng’s party.

            “His car was in bad shape then?” Henry asked from Blue’s other side. There were worry lines around his eyes.

            “It was bad,” she confirmed. “The roof is crumpled, the driver’s side door was ripped clean off, and there isn’t an intact window left in the thing!”

            “And it caught on fire," Gansey supplied as he reached for his third slice of pizza. "Christ, I can't believe the airbags didn't go off!"

 Ronan frowned down at a grease smear on the plate. 

            Adam would be _so fucking dead_ if he hadn't called out for someone to help him. He would have died in that steel abomination that passed for a car if Ronan hadn't heard him if he hadn't come to his rescue. 

            The fear and pain in the man’s voice when Ronan had pulled him from the car was enough to make him feel sick.

            It reminded the angel of a time, over a decade ago, when he had saved a boy who had unsuspectingly trampled over a nest of ground hornets.

            The second time he and Gansey had met had been just as unexpected as the first.

            At the time, Gansey had been just starting college. He had been young and dumb, excited to see where his anthropology degree would take him. He was raring for adventure, looking for a journey.

            Ronan had just stumbled into Henrietta after completing an assignment. The Nephilim had fought hard and he hated doing his brothers’ work. He had been hellbent on just forgetting the entire night had happened. So, he went to the bar and drowned his sorrows with too much beer.

            He had been covered in dried blood, mud, and bruises when Gansey had found him standing at the driver’s side door of the BMW while he fumbled with the keys. He was fairly certain the overbearing scent of alcohol is what had drawn the perky freshman’s attention to him.

            Gansey had offered him a ride in his Camaro and they’d been friends ever since.

            After meeting Gansey’s other friends, Ronan wasn’t surprised to see that the human had managed to befriend an angel. After all, he had a knack for finding the peculiar.

            His girlfriend was a psychic battery and passionate feminist, his two friends were a ghost and a vampire, and his roommate was a psychic boy-genius.

            Richard Cambell-Gansey III's habit of finding things didn't end with people. Once, he'd gone through a hike in the mountainous Virginia forests and returned with a sword. It hadn't been just any sword, either. It had belonged to a Knight of Hell.  It was one of the very few weapons that could kill an angel. It was the brother of the very same blade Michael had used to sever his wings from his back.

            It had taken everything Ronan, the rule-breaker, had to not jump from the moving Pig and fly to the nearest Archangel and turn it in.

            Instead, he’d taken it from Gansey while the boy had slept, and replaced it with a well-created replica that he’d bought from an online black market. He kept the real sword and let Gansey turn the fake over to his professor, who shipped it off to be on display in some museum in Germany.

            By the time Ronan realized the conversation had shifted to Henry coming up with a metal that wouldn’t collapse to make cars safer, it was too late to excuse himself to go do the task Declan had given him.

            Blue leaned across the table and asked, “do you have a boyfriend yet?”

            Ronan frowned at her. He didn’t think hooking up with Adam counted as an actual relationship. “No.”

            “I think I know someone. I just have to talk to him to make sure he’s not seeing anyone.”

            Because relationships between humans and angels were _very much_ forbidden, Ronan narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not really interested in dating.”

            “Bullshit.”

            “My last relationship failed miserably.”

            “Maybe this one will be different.”

            He snorted and rolled his eyes. “I doubt it.” He slid out of the booth and left enough money to pay for the pizza. It was his turn to pay, after all. “I’ll catch you losers later.”

            He needed to go investigate the gate to Hell.

 

* * *

 

            Adam's life kept going like the crash had never happened. It was so surreal that he had a hard time believing it had even happened at all. In fact, the only thing reminding him that he had been in the crash was the scar on his thigh. 

            He hadn’t seen Ronan since that night, either. Even if he wasn’t sure that it had been him that pulled him from the burning car, he was certain that Ronan had been with him on the road while they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

            Adam felt kind of bad for snapping at the other man at Boyd’s. Well...not too bad. He was twenty-two and he didn’t need a damned babysitter.

            He didn’t know if it was because he was having a hard time gathering his thoughts and feelings ever since the crash, or if the “off” feeling he was getting was from his daily tarot reading. The spread had predicted something bad was going to happen.

            It was hard to say if the cards had actually meant something bad that involved something _outside_ of Adam or if it was an emotional or mental struggle. Tarot was funny that way.

            As he pedaled his bike along the darkened roadway from his shift at the supermarket, he thought about the cards.

            His day had been fairly uneventful. Things had been fairly normal. The only curveball he had gotten all day was the pop-quiz his biology professor had given him and he seriously doubted _that_ was what the cards had predicted.

            As he pedaled towards campus, the cold October sky started to drizzle.

            The last thing he wanted was to be wet _and_ cold.

            He decided to take a shortcut through the park. It was dark and bikes weren’t allowed on the sidewalk, but it was a straight path to campus from the road. Even walking next to his bike would take less time than pedaling the entire way around.

            So, Adam got off the bike and headed towards the campus lights in the distant trees.

            The only light source in the entire park was a small building in the park’s center. It had one light dimly illuminating the darkness around them.

            It was very late and he knew that the people who tended to inhabit the park this late were far from savory characters. It was kind of dangerous to be out here among the drug dealers and junkies looking for their next fix.

            Still, the weather was cold and wet. He doubted anyone would be out on a night like this.

            He just wanted to get to campus as quickly as possible.

            Adam made it to the building that housed two small bathrooms for the park goers. He let out a quiet breath of relief when he got under the dim fluorescent light. He thought he would be fairly safe until he left the light’s halo.

            He was wrong.

            Two figures stepped around the backside of the building. They stood tall and intimidating before him.

            For a split second, Adam thought of the bird-monster that had landed on his car. Then, he realized that these men didn’t have beaks. Instead, they had chapped lips and cold-reddened noses.

            “Give me your wallet,” the one on the right demanded.

            Adam almost laughed. They were going to try to mug him. “I don’t have any money,” he said.

            The man on the left lunged for him and grabbed him by the shirt. In a hard shove, he had Adam pushed up against the hard brick of the building. Stars flashed behind his eyes as his head thumped against the brick.

            For a brief moment, he wasn’t in the park at night. Instead, he was in the hallway of the trailer where he grew up with his back pressed up against his bedroom door hard enough for the doorknob to leave an ugly bruise on his ribs.

            The man who spoke caught Adam’s attention, dragging him back to the present as he pulled a switchblade out of his tattered coat and pressed it to his throat. “I don’t think I fucking asked,” he hissed.

            Adam swallowed, he felt something hot and wet drip down his collar. _Blood_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully.

            “The wallet!”

            “I, uh, yeah!” He shifted and tried to work his wallet out of his back pocket.

            A voice came from the darkness. It was the sound of cigarette smoke tainted with acid. “Now, now, boys. That isn’t very nice.”

            The man with the knife glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened in fear as his face turned an ashy-gray color. Then, he disintegrated into nothing. The only thing that he left behind was the shining switchblade.

            “Besides,” the stranger said with a twisted smile, “your technique could use some work.”

            The second man released Adam and turned to run, but it was too late. The stranger clamped a hand over his face and the man disintegrated on the spot.

            Adam's brain wasn't working. There was a logical way to explain what he'd just witnessed. All he could do was stare as the ashes of the two men were swept away by a brisk wind. He blinked once, twice, three times and then forced himself to look up at the stranger standing a few feet away from him. 

            He couldn’t run. He was paralyzed by fear.

            “Holy shit,” he breathed around numb lips.

            The man’s grin was razor-sharp. “Actually,” he reached up and pulled his white sunglasses low enough on his nose for Adam to see that his eyes were entirely black for a moment, “it’s more like holy Hell.”

            _Wrong, wrong, wrong_! His brain screamed at him.

            He needed to get out of this damn park. He needed to go to bed and wake up so he could try to have one normal fucking day.

            Yet, he was too terrified to move. He just stared at the stranger wide-eyed.

            When a second figure emerged from the shadows, Adam couldn’t help but think he was a goner. The man grabbed the stranger and slammed a powerful fist into his face. “Get the fuck away from him!”

            Adam knew that voice. He knew the shape of those shoulders and the glint in those blue eyes. “ _Ronan_?”

            Ronan didn’t even send a glance in his direction.

            Adam’s mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to find the words to warn Ronan. This man--creature-- _thing_ just turned to men into ash! He didn’t want Ronan to share the same fate as them. “Ronan!” He managed to blurt out again.

            Ronan turned and looked at Adam. His eyes swept up and down him to check him over for injuries. “I’m sorry,” he said.

            “Sorry for wh--” Adam trailed off as Ronan’s fingertips brushed against his forehead and his world went black.

 

* * *

 

            Ronan was pissed at his own ignorance. He should have paid more attention to Adam. Kavinsky had warned him that he would be coming. He had warned the angel that he would be looking for him, that he was going to fuck everything up.

            Now, the demon was here and there was nothing he could do to make Adam unsee what he had just seen.

            “What the fuck are you doing here?!” He snarled at the demon. He fisted his hand in Kavinsky’s shirt in frustration.

            Kavinsky’s grin was poisonous. “I don’t reveal my secrets on the first date. I learned that from an ex of mine. You look just like him--”

            Fury ripped through the angel and he threw another punch at the demon’s face. He enjoyed the sharp smack of flesh on flesh as their skin connected. “I’m going to cast you back into Hell and throw away the fucking key!”

            A laugh tore through the demon. It was brittle, the sound of breaking glass. His teeth glinted red with blood under the fluorescent light. “The last time I crawled out of the pit you were _more_ than happy to see me.”

“I’m glad you think this is a fucking joke!” He growled.

            “You can’t kill me!”

“Why not?”

            “Because if you kill me, I take your pretty new toy and all of your little friends with me.” His grin shifted to smug triumph when Ronan’s hold loosened on his shirt. “As for my actual plans in this shithole, that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“K--”

            “Maybe I just missed you?”

            “Bullshit!”

            Kavinsky threw his head back and laughed again, his narrow shoulders shaking.

            Rage burned through Ronan’s chest, hot and unmanageable. His fist tightened in Kavinsky’s shirt and he pulled back to deliver another furious blow to his smug fucking face. There was more to his arrival that just seeing him, he was sure of it.

            “See you later, angel-face.” Kavinsky gave Ronan a wink before he dissolved into smoke and disappeared, leaving the angel with a fistful of air.

            Ronan picked Adam up and carried him to the BMW. He placed the blond in the passenger seat before returning to the park for the bike. The least he could do was give Adam a ride home.

            While he drove towards campus, it took all of his willpower to not snap off the steering wheel from stress.

            Kavinsky was in Henrietta and this entire town, that Ronan had come to adore, was fucked if he didn’t figure out why. Whatever it was, couldn’t be good.

            He’s fucked, Adam’s fucked, Gansey, the town, the people in it, they were all fucked if he didn’t figure it out fast.

            The last time Kavinsky had been topside, Ronan had taken a turn for a worse and it had really screwed a lot of people over. He wouldn’t let it happen again. It _couldn’t_ happen again.

            Ronan pulled into a parking space just as Adam was waking up.

            “Ronan?” He asked groggily. His dust-colored hair was sticking up from where he was leaning against the window.

            The angel sighed and stared at the speedometer. He had a lot of explaining to do. He didn’t know where to begin.

            “I just had the weirdest dream,” Adam said. “How did you...did I fall asleep at work?”

            A dream. Adam thought that the interaction in the park had been a dream. Ronan was willing to let him believe it...the only problem was that he wasn’t a liar.

            Ronan's blue eyes looked at Adam. He silently wished Adam wouldn't ask him any more questions. He wasn't a liar and he wasn't willing to let Adam in on the truth. 

            “Ronan, I need to apologize for the other night.”

            He stared at him, unsure of what he was talking about.

            “At Boyd’s.”

            _Oh_ , the night where Adam had told him to stay away and then had nearly died.

            Adam shifted and leaned over the BMW’s gearshift. He was close enough that Adam could smell his deodorant and the faint engine-grease scent that came with his job at the garage. His hand reached up and brushed against Ronan’s jaw before the man brought their lips together.

            Ronan’s mind went blank as their kisses grew hotter and heavier. Once he pulled back to breathe he said, “Adam, there’s some--”

            “I don’t want to talk right now,” Adam interrupted with another searing kiss. “I just want to kiss you.”

            He was putty in Adam’s amazing hands. Who was he to argue? Kissing him felt too good. So, Ronan leaned in and pulled him closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter comes from Fall Out Boy's song "Centuries"


	15. Vengence is a Cold Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MUCH LOVE!!! 
> 
> You guys are seriously all incredible. I promise you that each one of the comments you all left me on the last chapter made me smile! Like I said, they mean so much to me!
> 
> It's Wednesday! So that means another update. This chapter isn't as exciting as the last one, but I promise that the next one will be! It's basically setting things up for the next few chapters.

 

            Ronan paced the floor of his living room. He was a frustrated and anxious mess.

            It had been two days since he had seen Kavinsky in the park and so far the town hadn't been shaken to pieces by a massive earthquake or set on fire. Which, even though Ronan didn't want the demon in Henrietta, to begin with, was somewhat of a relief. 

            Despite the lack of carnage, Ronan was still on edge. A destructive Kavinsky was less worrisome, more predictable, than a quiet one. After all, it was easier to detect a predator that was thundering through the forest than one that was slinking quietly in the underbrush while it waited to attack.

            “ _Kerah_!” Chainsaw called to him from her perch on the barren curtain rod over his head.

            His eyes snapped up to her as he kept wearing the floorboards thin with his unsettled pacing. “What? Do you have an idea of where to start?”

            The bird didn’t reply. She just turned her head from side-to-side, blinking her beady eyes at him.

            “I didn’t think so,” he grumbled.

            He didn’t want to repeat the five years K had been topside in the seventies. Especially not here, in a town that he cared for so much. No, he wouldn’t let there be casualties in this town. He wouldn’t let it get that far.

            Ronan paused in his pacing as he remembered the bitter taste of Kavinsky's pills on his tongue. He remembered the way they had made his head feel like it'd been stuffed with cotton but made him feel indestructible. He remembered the crunch of steel as Kavinsky had slammed him into the hood of a stolen car. 

            Part of him longed for that feeling of indestructibility, the fuck-it-all attitude he’d had. The logical part of him told himself that he was a fucking idiot.

            He sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. This was _not_ easy.

            Ronan had spent five years drunk, high, and feeling invincible despite the fact that he had been wingless and more mortal than ever. He supposed he could blame his actions on the fact that he'd been lost without his wings. He hadn't been an angel and he hadn't been human. 

            Now that he still had his wings, he still felt lost. He wasn’t an angel and he wasn’t fallen. He was somewhere between, torn between wanting to fix things with his family and telling them to fuck off.

            Knowing that Kavinsky was back made him itch for that sense of faux invincibility. He had a destructive aura about him that made Ronan want to make all of the wrong decisions.

            He couldn’t be that stupid idiot from the seventies again. He was more under the angels’ radar than ever. Declan knew where he was, which made Kavinsky’s presence even more dangerous in Henrietta.

            The demon could go back to Hell for all he cared. Ronan was more concerned with what the repercussions for letting Kavinsky exist meant for him. What they meant for Gansey, Adam, Blue, and the others.

            With a sigh, Ronan swiped his keys off of the cluttered coffee table. He needed advice.

            Chainsaw flapped to his shoulder and made herself comfortable.

            Ronan didn’t stop her. He hadn’t taken her out in a while. She could tag along while he sought advice from one of the wisest humans he had ever met before.

 

* * *

 

            _What am I even doing here_? He asked himself as he stood on the other side of the white-painted door.

            He was fairly certain Gansey had been a pure soul since birth. The only sinful thing Ronan could ever imagine Gansey doing was wearing those horrible boat shoes Blue hated so much.

            Now, he was probably going to corrupt his friend by asking him for advice on what to do in order to deal with a literal demon.

            Gansey opened the door, his glasses had slid down his nose. His brow had been furrowed, but moments after recognizing Ronan, they brightened into a million-dollar smile.

            “Thanks, Dick.” Ronan let himself in and plopped himself on Gansey’s unmade bed.

            Gansey shut the door and eyed Chainsaw as she flapped her wings on Ronan’s shoulder. “She better not crap everywhere.”

            “She’s a bird,” the angel pointed out, “of course she’s going to shit everywhere.”

            Gansey gave a small nod and plopped on the other end of his bed, the one that was closest to the foot of Adam’s.

            Adam was nowhere to be seen, of course. That nerd was probably working on a paper in the library or at work.

            He picked up a well-worn book on Owen Glendower and started to read again. It was clear by his posture that he didn’t care if Ronan had just come to lounge on his bed or if he needed something. They had a good friendship, so details like that didn’t really matter to either of them.

            Ronan sighed.

            Gansey flipped the page. He read a few paragraphs and paused to write notes.

            Ronan sighed again.

 Gansey continued his furious reading like the words were going to vanish from the page at any given second. 

            Ronan sighed again, this time it was long and exaggerated.

            Finally, Gansey raised a brow and looked at his best friend. “Is something wrong, Ronan?”

            The angel chewed on a jagged fingernail while he tried to formulate a good way of phrasing the question without incriminating himself. Finally, he said, “One of my ‘friend’ from my past has come to town. I don’t think I’ll be able to avoid him.”

            Gansey’s eyes flickered with interested and he looked up from his book. “Why would you want to?”

            “He wasn’t a good influence on me in the past. I didn’t like who I was when he was around.”

            For several anxious breaths, Ronan was worried that Gansey was going to ask him questions about his past. He was afraid that he was going to try and find out what Ronan had done that had been so terrible. He wouldn't lie to Gansey, but he didn't want his friend's opinion to change of him. 

            Gansey studied him carefully as he formed an adequate response. “Why don’t you just stay away from him?”

            "It seems like every time we're around each other, I'm drawn to him like a moth to a flame. I can't help it." Yes, a moth to a flame was an accurate analogy. He knew Kavinsky was dangerous and would kill him, but he hadn't been able to resist him ever. 

            “You’re allowed to make mistakes,” he replied.

            That reply made Ronan feel worse. When he made mistakes, people _died_. “I shouldn’t be,” he mumbled.

            His human friend studied him carefully, his eyes trailing over Ronan’s face and posture. “This is really bothering you. Did...did people get hurt?”

            Ronan exhaled sharply through his nose and glared at Gansey’s cluttered desk. He couldn’t answer that truthfully and keep his friend. He wouldn’t lie about it. So, he settled for silence.

            Gansey gave a small nod, accepting Ronan’s silence as a yes. “I think that you should see your friend one last time. I think you need to tell him that you can’t be around him ever again.”

            It was the best advice that Ronan was going to get. He didn’t think Kavinsky was going to take ‘no’ for an answer, but it was the best option at the moment. If K didn’t take him seriously, Ronan would kill him. There would be no returning to Hell and no more clawing his way back out. His soul would be gone forever. “Thanks,” he said.

            Gansey gave him a smile, “I’m here for you.”

            “I know.”

 

* * *

 

            When he found Kavinsky, the demon was sitting in an open field on a hill that overlooked the sleepy town.

 He was lounging behind the wheel of a Mitsubishi Eclipse with a knife decal on the door. It seemed like a fitting sticker for the demon. He was a knife; apparently harmless at first, but quick to draw blood.

            He gave Ronan a sinister smile as he got out of the BMW and approached the open window. “I knew you’d come around eventually. After all, a match can’t resist a spark.”

            Ronan frowned at him. They weren’t a match and a spark. They were fire and gasoline. They were a bomb waiting to go off and kill whoever was in their path. “This isn’t some sort of catch-up date. I’m here to talk to you about serious business.”

            The demon got out of the car and slammed the door. “It’s always ‘business’ with you angels. Do you guys ever let loose?”

            Ronan scowled as he watched Kavinsky pop the trunk and pull out a few cases of beer.

            “Just kidding, it’s a rhetorical question. I know _you_ let loose. Your tight-ass brothers, on the other hand, not so much.”

            He rolled his blue eyes and folded his arms across his chest. Kavinsky was such a dick. 

            The demon slammed the cases of beer on the hood of the car and pulled a can out. He chugged it in a matter of seconds and crushed the can in his hand before tossing it over his shoulder in the overgrown grass. “Want a beer?”

            “I’m not drinking with you.”

            “Sure you’re not,” he snorted before opening another beer and draining it like the last.

            Ronan gave him a disgusted look.

            “What’s the matter angel-face? Are you afraid a dozen beers are going to kill you? Stop being a pussy and have a few.”

            The problem was that it wasn’t going to be a dozen beers. It was going to be twenty, twenty-five, thirty, or more. The problem wasn’t even the beer at all. The problem was the fact that Kavinsky and beer were a dangerous combination. The combination of beer, Kavinsky, and Ronan was absolutely _lethal_.

            “Kavinsky,” he said as he eyed the beer in the demon’s hand, “we have to talk.”

            Kavinsky pointed a thin, colorless finger at him and said, “I’m not talking to you until you pull the dick out of your ass and have a fucking beer.”

            _One_ beer. Just one. It was going to be just one beer. It took way more than that for Ronan to get drunk enough to make questionable decisions. One beer wouldn’t hurt anything. He’d have one beer and then tell Kavinsky that he couldn’t be anywhere near him ever again.

            He scowled at the demon and stomped over to the box. He pulled one out and popped the top.

            The grin Kavinsky gave him as he raised the beer to his lips was full of poison.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title comes from the song 'Missile' by Dorothy.


	16. Nothing Good Comes After Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Sunday! 
> 
> Stick with me for a few chapters, okay? It's about to get a little rough for our favorite angel and psychic.

 

            It wasn't just one beer, five, or twelve. It twenty-six...or was it twenty-eight? He couldn't remember. The only thing he knew for a fact was that he was drunk and he shouldn't be. He had come here to give Kavinsky a message, but it didn't seem important now that he was leaning against the hood of the Mitsubishi as the town slept below them. 

            But it _was_ important.

            He frowned at the half-full can of beer in his hand and tried to put together a sensible sentence. “You...you have to leave this town,” he said without looking up from his empty beer can.

            “Why is that?” Kavinsky asked, his voice amused. “Oh, that’s right. You’re the angels’ whipped dog.”

            Ronan glared at him. “You need to leave so I can get on with my fuckin’ life. That way you won’t get smited back to Hell and neither of us will get in trouble.”

            “Heh.”

            The angel watched as the demon slid down the hood of his car and stood up on the bumper. “What are you doing?”

            His breath smelled like beer and cigarettes as he leaned in close. “Hold the fuck still, Lynch. This shit was expensive.”

            Out of the corner of his eye Ronan watched as Kavinsky tapped a small line of powder across his shoulder. He held still as he leaned in and breathed the toxic powder in, ignoring the feather-light brush of his nose against his skin.

            When Kavinsky finished, he straightened up and looked at Ronan’s back. “Your tattoo...it’s _nice_. When did you get that done? You didn’t have it the last time we met.”

            He hadn’t. He’d gotten in right after Declan had sent K back to hell. Ronan didn’t dignify the question with a reply. He tensed as he felt ice cold fingers on his back.

            “Your wings...fuck, they’re beautiful.”

            The brush of Kavinsky’s fingers against his skin brought back intimate memories that Ronan wanted to crush immediately.

            This Kavinsky was the same one he’d known back then.

            Ronan grit his teeth as he felt fingers brush against his black feathers. An angel’s wings were the most sensitive part of their body and Ronan’s were particularly sensitive because he’d been fallen. “Fuck off!” He snarled, turning around and giving the demon a hard shove off of his perch on the bumper.

            “What’s the matter, angel-face?” He asked as he stood up. He reached out to touch them again.

            “I’m not kidding! Knock it off.”

            Kavinsky thought it was funny. It was written clearly across his face and his animalistic grin. “Lighten up, will ya?”

           It wasn’t funny and it left Ronan full of a burning rage that he had no way to contain or ignore. He lunged forward and wrapped his fingers around the demon’s slender throat. He gave him a forceful shove as he slammed him against the hood of the car. Then, he cocked back his arm and delivered a hard blow to his face. “I’m _not_ fucking around, K!”

            Kavinsky’s smile broadened, whether it was the effect of the cocaine or from years of being tortured in hell, it was impossible to tell.

            Ronan doubled over as the demon kicked him in the gut.

            Kavinsky rolled off the car and grabbed Ronan’s arm and twisted it behind his back in a supernaturally fast move. He wrenched upwards on Ronan’s arm and dug a bony thumb into the scars at the base of his wings.

            “Now, now, Lynch.” Kavinsky cooed as he released Ronan and gave him a hard shove.

            He tripped and caught himself on the hood of the car. He turned over to look at Kavinsky. “I’m going to fucking--”

            The demon’s bony fingers were around Ronan’s jaw, squeezing his cheeks hard enough to force his mouth open. “Shh. You’re talking too much. If I were you, I’d shut the fuck up before you get us both in trouble like you tend to do.” He shoved a fistful of pills into Ronan’s open mouth.

            Ronan’s heart was speeding in his chest. _No_ , he thought desperately as he tasted the bitterness of the pills on his tongue. _This can’t happen again_! He tried to spit them out, but Kavinsky was too fast. He grabbed an open beer and pressed the opening to Ronan’s lips.

            He was choking on pills in beer. He didn’t want to swallow, but he had to. Drowning in beer and choking on pills was a shitty way for an angel to die. He choked on them as they slid down his throat, but Kavinsky didn’t seem to notice or care.

            When the drugs kicked in, Ronan’s head was unbelievably heavy and light at the same time. He felt off balance.

            He hadn’t been high in a _very_ long time. He had forgotten how off-kilter it made everything seem.

            Ronan pulled himself to his feet, “you... _bastard_!”

            The words had no impact on Kavinsky. In fact, he looked obnoxiously pleased with himself. He extended a middle finger in Ronan’s direction carelessly as he chugged what was left of the beer he’d forced Ronan to drink.

            “What the fuck did you do to me?”

            The demon crushed the can and tossed it over his shoulder. “I’m helping you loosen up and have fun. You remember what fun is, right?”

            Fury consumed him. Ronan lunged forward and grabbed Kavinsky’s shirt and shoved him up against the driver’s side door of the car hard enough to make the glass shatter.

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa! You can’t actually be angry right now.”

            “I’m fucking _pissed_!”

            Kavinsky held up his hands in some sort of surrender. “Hear me out, okay?”

            Ronan didn’t want to hear him out. He wanted to send him back to Hell, close the gate, and destroy the key. He just didn’t think he had the ability with the high he felt making his head feel like it was full of cotton.

            “D’ya remember the seventies? We used to have a good time back then. You used to like the way the drugs made you feel. I think you still do.”

            He frowned at those words, his brow furrowing. Did he? Did he like the high he was feeling?

            It made him feel like he was indestructible, a force that could not be stopped. It made him feel like he could rule this Earth and everyone that walked on it. He felt like a God.

            He _did_ like the way the drugs made him feel.

            “You do, don’t you?” Kavinsky asked with a knowing smirk.

            He knew he shouldn’t, but he did.

            Slowly, Ronan’s fingers loosened and he dropped Kavinsky and stepped back.

            “I knew you would.” The demon fished a cigarette out of the crushed pack in his back pocket and lit it. He took a long drag before he gestured to the car. “Get in. We’re going to fuck shit up.”

            He had forgotten how good it was; the drinking, the drugs, the high. He loved the way his heart surged in his chest when they took sharp corners too fast and blew through red lights like the laws of this mortal world didn’t apply to them.

            He felt wild. He felt unhinged. He was a category five hurricane rushing to make landfall.

            His heart was thumping an impossible rhythm in his chest. His head was swimming with the drugs and alcohol. He felt _alive_.

            Ronan wanted to destroy something, but he didn’t know what and he didn’t know how to do it without drawing attention to themselves. “I need to…” he trailed off, unsure of how to put the wildfire burning in his heart into words.

           “I know exactly what you need,” Kavinsky said with a sinister smile.

* * *

 

 

            They found themselves on the outskirts of town.

            K parked the white ricer on the side of the road and got out. “Come join me, Lynch.”

            Ronan did. He stood next to Kavinsky and studied the house sitting a few dozen yards off of the road. The sign advertising it for sale creaked in the slight breeze.

            “What do you see?”

            Ronan frowned at the question. “A house,” he replied.

            “Wrong.”

            “Wrong?”

            “Wrong. What I see is an opportunity to release that fire burning inside of you. You know, the one that you’ve been holding in for decades.” He retreated to the back of the trunk and started digging around inside.

            Ronan stayed put and stared at the house, wondering what Kavinsky meant by that. He did have a fire burning in his chest. He _did_ want to let it out.

            “Take this.”

            Ronan’s fingers closed around a glass bottle. The t-shirt wrapped up and stuffed inside was already on fire. It was a molotov cocktail and seeing it sent a thrill through him.

            “It’s a bomb. Just like you.”

            It was wrong and stupid to destroy somebody else's private property. He shouldn't do it, but the flame from the shirt was licking the back of his hand and he knew the way it would explode would be intensely satisfying. 

            “Are you going to throw it? Or are you going to wait until it blows up in your hand?”

            The explosion wouldn’t kill either of them. It would hurt, but the two of them would survive. After all, they were an angel and a demon. Very few things could actually kill them.

            “Throw it, Lynch!” Kavinsky egged on, his voice smokey and dark. “Throw it! _Throw it_! You know you want to!”

            He _did_ want to. He knew he’d like it.

            Ronan cocked back his arm and sent the bottle flying. It sailed through the dusty kitchen window and shattered with a crash. Then with a mighty roar, the fire spread throughout the kitchen.

            Ronan felt the fire burning in his chest explode with the cocktail. It was gratifying to feel that contained fire finally spread, to finally let it burn through him instead of trying to hold it in place.

            Kavinsky pressed another bomb into his hand.

            He threw it.

            Another appeared.

            He threw that one too.

            It didn’t take long for the empty house to get devoured by the flames.

            Ronan leaned against the Mitsubishi and watched it burn. He should feel guilty for what he’d done, but he didn’t.

            “Well done, my friend,” Kavinsky praised as he took a swing from a whiskey bottle.

            The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance growing closer and closer.

            “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

 

* * *

 

            “Ronan?” A voice demanded, condescending and scornful. “What are you doing out here?”

            Ronan groaned and opened his bloodshot eyes. His head felt like it was full of cotton still and he still felt drunk. A quick look around revealed that he had passed out somewhere on campus, far enough away from the sidewalk to avoid beings spotted by security, but not far enough from it to avoid being seen by Blue.

            He sat up and rubbed his head, trying to remember how he got there in the first place.

            “What are you doing out here?” Blue repeated. Her thin arms were folded over her chest and even with the colorful array of clips in her spiked hair, she somehow managed to look properly disdainful.

            “Fuck,” he slurred, “I don’t remember.”

            She rolled her eyes. “That’s pitiful. Come on and I’ll give you a ride back to your apartment. I’m sure Gansey will let me use the car.”

            “No.”

            “No?”

            He staggered to his feet. He managed to stay vertical as the world tilted violently to the side. “I fucking said ‘no’. Get off of my fucking back, okay? I’ll make it there on my own. I don’t need you to be my mother.”

            “Are you serious? I just offered to help you!”

            “I don’t need your fucking help!” He snapped at her. “I’ll get there on my own.”

            “Fine!” She called after him as he turned and started to stumble off. “When you get picked up by the cops for public intoxication don’t forget that I tried to help you!” She turned and stomped away, muttering about him being ungrateful under her breath.

            Once Ronan was out of sight he flew back to his apartment.

            He collapsed on the couch, feeling the world seem to swirl and tilt around him. Christ, he was _very_ drunk and still quite high. He hadn’t realized it until after he’d flown.

            He closed his eyes and tried not to get sick.

            His head felt like it was too heavy for his neck and the rest of him felt just as equally uneven. His chest felt like it didn’t belong to him.

            There was something dark inside of it. It was unfamiliar, demonic, and certainly didn’t belong to him.

            He frowned and pressed a hand to his chest. “What the fuck is this?”

            An echo of glee shot through him, which was even more confusing because that didn’t belong to him either. He certainly wasn’t happy about the unfamiliar feeling budding in his chest. He didn’t know what it meant.

            Even though he was a dumbass, he certainly wasn’t a demon.

            He shouldn’t feel any demonic energy radiating from him.

            “What the fuck is going on?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song 'After Midnight' is a song that heavily inspired a lot of the Rovinsky parts of this fic. Which, is the song that this chapter is titled after. 
> 
> Now, I know you're all here for pynch and most of you (including me) do NOT like Rovinsky. Please, bear with me and stick out a few chapters for me. This story is all about Adam and Ronan, together as a couple and separate as they try to figure out their relationship and new lives in Henrietta. Some decisions that are made in this story by these characters aren't necessarily the greatest. But I PROMISE, all will be well in the end!


	17. Hell's Gonna Swallow Me Whole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I solemnly swear that this bullshit only lasts for a couple more chapters! Hang in there, guys!

            Ronan spent the next day sleeping off what alcohol and drugs were still in his system. When he did wake up, it was after dark and he still felt like shit.

 "Fuck," he groaned as he sat up in bed. He stretched his sore wings and shook out his inky feathers. He rubbed his head like he could resolve his hangover the same way he could heal a mortal's wounds. 

            His memory of the night before was hazy and filled with gaping holes. He remembered going to talk to Kavinsky, to tell him to leave, but he had a beer. No, he’d had more than one. He remembered the bitter taste of pills on his tongue and the heat coming off of the burning house.

            “ _Fuck_!” He spat at himself.

            If his withdrawal didn't make him feel shitty enough, the guilt of what he did certainly got the job done. 

            He’d let himself go. He could have gotten someone hurt or killed. He had destroyed property that didn’t belong to him.

            Ronan got up and hurled a coffee mug that had been sitting on his nightstand at the wall. It shattered into a million ceramic pieces. He felt each of them in his heart.

            _Why am I such a fucking idiot_? He asked himself as he grabbed the black tee off of his bedroom floor that had the least offensive smell and he shrugged it on.

            He needed to drive too fast with his music too loud. He needed to figure out how the hell he was feeling emotions that didn’t belong to him. He needed to find Kavinsky and get some answers. He needed to convince him to go back to Hell without causing a scene.

            Ronan looked for his keys. They weren’t in his jacket, between the cushions on the couch, or buried under the old magazines on the coffee table. “Chainsaw,” he told the Raven, who lifted her head sleepily from beneath her wing, “find my keys.”

            Either she didn’t understand him or she didn’t care. The raven tucked her head back beneath an ebony wing and went back to sleep.

            "I'm glad I taught you how to find my keys," he muttered sarcastically. 

            Ronan set to tearing his apartment to shreds looking for his fucking keys. He was always setting them down and losing them. He was in the midst of flipping his mattress over when he remembered exactly where they were.

            They were in his car.

            In the field overlooking Henrietta.

            “Oh for fuck’s sake!” He snarled before spreading his wings and taking flight.

 

* * *

 

            Ronan’s back burn when he arrived at his car. He’d flown on them quite a bit over the last two days and he was paying for it.

            When he got there, his car was sitting right where he left it. It was in perfect condition, just as he’d left it, with the exception of a pest problem.

            Kavinsky was lounging across the hood of the car. A half-empty bottle of liquor sat next to his right hand. If he heard Ronan approach he didn’t bother to acknowledge him.

            The angel scowled and approached the lanky figure stretched out in the light of the full moon. “Get off of my car.”

            The demon didn’t acknowledge that he heard him. He was so still and silent that Ronan wondered if he was even awake.

            “If you scratched the paint I’m going to kill you.”

            That statement caused a grin to stretch across Kavinsky’s features. His voice was taunting as he sang, “you probably wouldn’t like that too much.”

            He looked like he had a secret and that made Ronan’s blood turn to slush into his veins. Nothing good could come from Kavinsky knowing something he didn’t. It gave the demon the upper hand and he was the last person between Heaven and Hell that needed it.

            “What,” he demanded icily, “are you talking about?”

            Kavinsky slid off of the hood. He looked every bit like the poisonous viper he was. He pulled off his stained white tank and tossed it off to the side, the skin beneath it seemed to be just a few shades off from the fabric.

            Ronan forced himself to stare at Kavinsky’s face. He didn’t need to look at the scars across his skin to know he’d been tortured in Hell. He’d heard stories of demon’s having their flesh stripped from their bones while they screamed in agony. He’d heard the cries of souls as they were tormented for eternity. No wonder Kavinsky was so different from the man he’d fallen in love with years ago.

            The demon pulled a switchblade from his baggy cargo pants and flicked it out.

            Ronan’s blue eyes studied it. It looked just like a regular, mundane knife. There were no demon-banishing sigils on it and it hadn’t been quenched in holy oil.

            Kavinsky turned it so the handle was towards Ronan...and then plunged the blade right into the middle of his thin chest.

            It took less than two seconds for Ronan’s train of thought to go from _what the fuck just happened_? To _why the fuck does my chest hurt_?

            The angel pressed a startled palm to his own chest, right where he felt a sharp white-hot pain from a knife that had never touched his skin. He pulled his hand back and looked at it. There was no blood. Why did it hurt so badly? "What the _fuck_ , K?!”

            The other man paid no mind to the blood dripping from the already healing wound in the center of his chest. Instead, he laughed. It sounded like smoke and sulfur. “It’s an imprint!”

            “ _What_?”

            Kavinsky wiped the blood off his chest with his discarded shirt. “It’s an imprint. I learned about it in Hell. You know, after your brother so _kindly_ sent me back. Demons can imprint on people, and apparently angels, if they get the chance to get out of the pit.”

            Ronan’s ears were ringing. An _imprint_. Like, their souls were linked together. He was going to be sick. “I don’t want it. Take it back.”

            “No,” he replied with a snort. “I’ve made my choice and I picked you.”

            Ronan felt weak.

            What did this mean? Could his brothers sense that he was different? Could they tell he’d been hanging out with a demon? Could they sense Kavinsky _inside_ of him? Christ, it was even more horrifying to think about when he thought of it that way.

            “You bastard!” He finally managed to spit out. He lunged for Kavinsky, but the demon was quick to get out of his way.

            "Are you going to hit me, Lynch? Really? After I just showed you that whatever I feel, you feel? Shit, I knew you angels were thick but damn…" 

            Ronan stopped and stared at him. How the fuck was he supposed to fight Kavinsky now? He would feel every blow as if it had happened to him directly.

            “You’re much more fun when you’re high, you know that?” Kavinsky went to his car and dug around. He came back in a clean tank and held a bottle of pills in his fist. “Take ‘em. You know you want to.”

            Ronan didn't want to. Well, he didn't think he wanted to. Yet, there was some part deep inside of him that wanted it, that itched to unscrew the cap from the bottle and upended the contents into his mouth. 

            He could tell K felt the conflict within him because felt an unfamiliar sense of pleasure in his gut. It was just as twisted and acidic as the demon it was coming from.

            Kavinsky shook the pill bottle again.

            The burning drive in his gut encouraged him to extend his hand and take it. It seemed to say, _do it_! He didn’t know if they were his own feelings or Kavinsky’s encouraging him.

            Ronan reached out and took the bottle from Kavinsky and swallowed the contents dry. He chased it with a shot of liquor from the BMW’s hood.

            The pleased sensation within in him hummed in satisfaction, burned with approval.

            _Why_? He asked himself. He didn’t have an answer.

            Kavinsky yanked open the door to his Eclipse and climbed in. “Get in. We’re going to raise hell.”

            Once Ronan was situated in the passenger seat, he tried to work out what the fuck was actually going on from behind the haze of drugs.

            “You’re overthinking it,” Kavinsky said as he took a drag on a cigarette. “I can _feel_ that you’re going around in circles. It’s not fucking complicated, okay? I imprinted on you. You feel what I feel emotionally and physically. I feel what you feel.”

            “You just...do it? Without even talking about it to the other person?”

            “Like a dog pissing on a tree,” he agreed. “You say, ‘oh, I like that one’ and then you just do it.”

            “How? How does that even work?”

            Kavinsky glanced at him from behind his white sunglasses. Even though it was night he didn’t need to take them off to see. His demonic eyesight was just as good as Ronan’s. “You were really fucked up last night. You don’t remember anything.”

            “No.”

            “You ingested some of my blood.

            “How?”

            Kavinsky’s face slipped into an amused expression. “Hm, maybe you really were passed out when I did it.”

            It was wrong. It was all kinds of wrong. Kavinsky had managed to link their souls by feeding Ronan his blood while he was passed out. He wanted to be angry about it, but his brain was going in circles as he tried to make sense of it. Finally, he managed to say, "That's really fucked up."

             “Not my fucking problem.”

            Ronan glared out the window. He wasn’t okay with this bond that he now shared with Kavinsky, but he couldn’t think about it. There was a fire burning in his chest again. The drugs made him want to feed the flame. He wanted to crash this car. He itched for a molotov cocktail. The fire inside him was eating him up. He couldn’t take it.

            He remembered Kavinsky’s words from the night before, _it’s a bomb, just like you_.

            He had too many feelings about this new imprint and he wanted nothing more than to drown his confusion with whiskey. “Stop at the bar up here,” he told the demon at the wheel. “I need a fucking drink.”

 

* * *

 

            The bar was kind of crowded with local college boys ready to celebrate the completion of their Friday classes with a few drinks.

            Ronan and Kavinsky made themselves at home. They drank, watched the locals with amusement, and played pool.

            Ronan was high and buzzed, but he wasn’t an idiot. He was good looking. He didn’t know if being an angel helped him as far as his looks were concerned, but he didn’t really care too much. He knew he was earning appreciative looks from some of the girls and maybe even a guy or two as he leaned over the pool table.

            "Nice jeans," one frat brother said as he passed Ronan. He delivered a firm slap on the angel's ass as he went by. 

            Ronan stood up and looked at the guy.

            Jealousy and rage that didn’t belong to him rose up in him like a solar flare, hot and sudden.

            Kavinsky shoved the kid from behind, causing him to stumble.

            “What the fuck, man?” The mortal demanded, stunned.

            The demon fisted up a handful of the man’s shirt and pulled him close. “Don’t touch things that don’t belong to you Do you understand?”

            The frat boy apparently had a couple of friends, because a second guy made a grab at Kavinsky.

            Ronan intercepted him. He shoved him hard enough to send him staggering hard enough into the jukebox to crack it's touchscreen face, forcing the music to stop immediately. 

            The entire bar turned and looked at them.

            The angel just stared back, trying to process what had happened. The drugs made his mind feel unbelievably sluggish.

            There was a loud crash followed by a mildly annoying pain as a pool cue was smashed over his head.

            It didn’t hurt. He was an _angel_ for fuck’s sake!

            Ronan turned around and grabbed the jukebox guy’s buddy by the throat and lifted him up off of the floor. “You just made a _very_ dumb mistake,” he hissed.

            Sick, twisted, pleasure ripped through him. The angel wasn’t even sure who it belonged to anymore. He was a celestial being! And these mere mortals thought they could fight him? It was humorous and admirably stupid.

            His gaze focused on the face of the man he was choking. It was so red it was turning purple. His hands scrabbled for purchase, digging feebly into Ronan’s hand in an attempt to make him let go.

            _I’m killing him_ , he realized from beneath the fog of the drugs.

            Ronan was instantly disgusted with himself. He released his grip on the man and let him fall to the floor. He didn’t stop to make sure he was okay as he stormed out of the bar. He knew Kavinsky would follow him. He didn’t bother waiting for him to catch up.

            He didn’t wait for Kavinsky to get into the driver’s seat. Ronan took his place. They sped through town, the Mitsubishi handled nothing like the BMW and it had suffered much worse abuse.

            The passed the park where he had run into Kavinsky and Adam what felt like weeks ago when it had only been a few days.

            While they were stopped at a red light, he could see a junkie fumbling with a plastic baggie of coke in the shadows of the trees.

            “Pull over,” Kavinsky said, “I need more blow.”

            Ronan sighed and pulled over. He followed Kavinsky as he slunk through the shadows towards the unsuspecting drug addict.

            “Get the powder for me,” K said.

            He almost protested. It wasn’t his job to do Kavinsky’s dirty work. Then, Ronan remembered the feeling of the switchblade in his chest; even though it hadn’t physically stabbed him, it had hurt like hell. That, mixed with Kavinsky’s desire in the bond was enough to get him to do it.

            Ronan grabbed the druggie and shoved him up against the bathroom with the light, the very one where Adam had almost been mugged the other night.

            Next to Ronan, Kavinsky had a Cheshire grin.

            The man was so scared he was practically pissing himself as he fumbled for the baggie of cocaine in the pocket of his ragged jacket. "H-Here, man. Take it! Just keep--" 

            “Ronan?” A familiar voice drawled, “what are you doing?!”

            He was shocked to see Adam here in the middle of the night, yet again. His drugged brain was trying to piece together a coherent sentence while he worked on getting past his surprise.

            He didn’t have to. His surprise was overcome by black, dark, furious, unfamiliar rage.

            Before he knew what he was doing, he released the junkie and grabbed Adam. He shoved him up against the wall in the stranger’s place.

            He didn’t understand it. He didn’t _want_ to hurt Adam. That was the last thing he wanted. No, he wanted to protect him, but the feelings that didn’t belong to him were driving his body. He was acting without thinking. His brain was too far behind his body because of the cocktail of pills and whiskey.

            He heard the air escape from Adam’s lungs in a soft gust as his back met the concrete.

            He felt K’s sick approval at the violent action.

            “Adam,” the angel hissed to the psychic, “what the fuck are you doing out here?”

            “You’re fucking stupid for cutting through the park,” Ronan told him. “Don’t you fucking know it’s dangerous out here? Christ!” He was shaking, but he did his best to hold Adam steady. “You’re going to forget you saw me here tonight.”

            If the blond heard him, he didn’t acknowledge him.

            He gave him a forceful shake. “Do you understand me?!”

            This brought Adam back to the present. He gave Ronan a dead, expressionless look. “Yes, sir.”

            Ronan released his jacket and stepped back. His eyes followed Adam as he picked up his bike and started pedaling down the path. He watched him disappear into the darkness. 

            Approval flickered through the bond.

            Ronan looked at Kavinsky, who looked particularly demonic as he snorted a bit of coke and gave the angel a wicked grin of satisfaction.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that I had to hurt us like this. I promise it will all be worth it in the end! Like I said, there's only a few more chapters of manipulative mind-fuckery left so stick with me!
> 
> This chapter title is based from a line in the song 'Whiskey Fever' by Dorothy. I've been on a Dorothy kick lately, but her music gets me fired up!


	18. Frozen Hearts in a Lover's Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really questioning some of my decisions lately, but you guys have left me some really wonderful comments and I even talked to someone on tumblr about how I was feeling and now I feel loads better!
> 
> Thank you all for being so supportive and sticking with me! I promise I'll make it worth your while! Way to keep those uplifting comments coming!

            Every time Adam blinked he saw Ronan's face inches from him. He felt sick to his stomach every time he remembered the roughness in his hands and the snarl in his throat. 

            It was too similar to his childhood for him to be comfortable with what had happened. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to look Ronan in the face ever again.

            “Are you okay?” Blue asked him.

            Adam blinked and looked up from his notes, her voice pulling him out of his own thoughts. “Me?”

            “Yeah, you. You seem off today.”

            He _was_ off. The event with Ronan in the park had put him in a bad place mentally and emotionally. He could tell that Blue and Gansey could see it, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth. He didn’t want to talk about how much it hurt that somebody he’d fallen head over heels for had threatened him. “I’m fine,” he dismissed.

            “You’re not,” she chastised. Blue moved to the edge of Gansey’s bed so she was closer to Adam’s desk. “Do you know what you need? You need a day off from work and to go on a date. You know, get your mind off of the stress of work and school.”

            Adam gave her a wry look, “are you volunteering?”

            “No. But, I know someone who might.”

            He shook his head. “I can’t skip work. I don’t have time to go on dates. I have hospital bills to pay off and I need to start saving for a new car.”

            Next to her Gansey made a strained expression, but he didn’t say anything. He had offered to pay off Adam’s medical expenses and it had caused them to have three days of tense silence.

            He didn’t really care about whoever she was talking about. He was kind of hung up on one person and he’d just witness that person rob a druggie of his cocaine. Then, said person had turned on him so savagely that Adam had forgotten where he was.

            The last person to grab him like that (besides the druggies the week before) had been his father.

            Robert had been beyond pissed that Adam had managed to stash away a several thousand dollars for college, He’d hidden it in a drainage pipe in the ditch at the end of the drive to the trailer park. The money had been safer in a coffee can in a ditch than it had been under Adam’s bed.

            The fight had been bad, the worst one they’d ever had. It had left the only Parrish child deaf in one ear. The coppery tang of his own blood on his lips from the memory still made the bile rise up in his throat.

            Adam sighed and ran his finger along the ridge of his left ear.

            When Ronan had grabbed him he’d managed to choke out a ‘yes, sir’ and those two words haunted him. It was unbelievable how two words had the power to knot his intestines and make his hands clammy with sweat.

            He said ‘yes, sir’ to his professors out of courtesy when it was necessary, but it was the only time he’d ever said them since he’d left home. Him saying it when Ronan was snarling in his face brought back an influx of bad memories.

            He remembered mumbling those words countless times through numb and terrified lips while he waited for a bruising blow to be delivered.

            Ronan hadn’t looked like himself in the lone flickering light in the park. He’d looked like another creature completely, fierce and cold. His shocking eyes had been dilated with the effects of whatever drugs he’d been on.

            It hadn’t been the Ronan Adam had thought he knew.

            “Adam,” Blue said, pulling him out of his mind once more. “You’re going to be late for work if you keep daydreaming.”

            He blinked and looked at his seven dollar wristwatch. She was right. “Thanks,” he said standing up.

            “I can give you a ride,” Gansey offered.

            It was tempting to take him up on his offer because his luck with riding his bike home from work hadn’t been the greatest lately. “That would mean that you’d have to drive me to the Stop ‘n Shop later,” he reminded him. “And then pick me up after my shift there. I’m fine riding my bike.”

            Gansey knew Adam well enough by now that he knew there was no point in insisting that he gave his roommate a lift. Instead, he nodded and stood up. He extended his fist to Adam.

            Adam gave him a small smile and bumped their fists together. No matter how messed up things got in his life, he could count on Gansey to be there for him to lean on. He was a steady rock to lean on when the rest of the world was falling out from beneath Adam’s feet.

 

* * *

 

            He tried to focus at the garage, but it obviously wasn’t working. He kept dropping tools, he smashed his finger with a hammer, and whacked his head off of the open hood of a car.

            “What is your problem tonight?” Boyd asked as he wiped his hands off on a rag. “You’re head’s on crooked or something.”

            Adam felt his ears burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

            He gave a small nod as Boyd clapped him on the shoulder.

            “I’ve gotta run some numbers in the office. Do you think you can hold down the fort?”

            Adam knew it was getting late. Boyd was probably getting ready to turn in for the night. “Yes,” he replied.

            Boyd gave him a smile that echoed with something that could almost be classified as pride.  He nodded at Adam one last time before disappearing into the office.

            Adam smiled back. Suddenly, everything that was going on didn't seem that awful. He had to continue to keep his head down and push on, just like he knew how to do. 

            The shadows outside of the open garage doors grew longer and eventually disappeared as the sun slipped past the hills of Henrietta. The orange light above the door turned on and the shadows of moths flitting around the light flickered like ghosts.

            Adam was just about finished for the night when a car pulled up to the garage door. The gritty buzz of a ricer. 

            The car looked like it had been put through hell. The driver’s side window was shattered. There was a large dent on the hood, followed by several small dents around the body, the windshield was cracked, and one headlight was out.

            Looking at the battered Mitsubishi reminded Adam over his car the night he’d wrecked it. He could almost smell the smoke as he remembered how his car had looked, twisted and mangled on the side of the road as it burned.

            A shorter, lanky man slid out from behind the wheel. His flat-brimmed hat was on backward, white sunglasses covered his eyes even though it was dark outside. His walk was a leisurely strut as he looked around the shop. 

            When he spotted Adam he smiled.

            It was the smile of a viper.

            Adam was good at sensing energies. He was a psychic, it was part of the territory. Much of his skills came from reading and interpreting different types of energy. Each person gave off an energy that was purely unique to them.

            This man’s was malevolent.

            The psychic knew almost instantly that this wasn't his first run-in with this man. He couldn't forget someone like him. His energy was unique. He'd been in the park the night before, sneering at Ronan's elbow while he'd pinned Adam to the brick wall. 

            The stranger licked his lips and studied Adam in his coveralls. “Have we met before?”

            His voice was cold as he replied, "not formally, but I can't forget the face of the asshole that was threatening to kill a man for his drugs." 

            “You’ve got me confused with the tall, dark, and handsome one.”

            That statement burned a jealous streak through him, but Adam didn’t dare give this stranger fuel against him. “Right,” he said, “because being an accomplice makes you so innocent. You’re still an asshole.”

            The stranger took an easy step towards him.

            Every nerve in Adam’s body was screaming at him to run the other way. His brain was telling him that this was dangerous, but he stood fast. He’d been bullied his entire life. If he had stood up to his father, he could stand up to this jerk.

            The man’s eyes were hidden by his sunglasses that cost more than one of Adam’s textbooks, but he didn’t need to see them to see the threat in his smile.

            The psychic mustered up all of his courage and fixed the stranger with an icy glare.

            The man extended his hand, his fingers brushed against the freckled skin of Adam’s throat.

            The passenger door to the Mitsubishi opened and slammed shut. “Kavinsky, stand down.”

            Adam didn't lift his eyes from the stranger to look at Ronan. For two terrifying heartbeats, he was certain Kavinsky was going to strangle him anyway.

           “Yes, _dear_ ," the man replied snidely at Ronan. He dropped his arm to his side and took two steps backward so he could study Adam a moment longer before he turned and disappeared outside.

            Adam’s mind was a vortex of incomprehensible thoughts, his body was awash with a muddy mixture of emotions.

            Ronan was standing just a few feet away from him. He was almost in the same exact spot they’d kissed the last time they’d been in the garage together.

            That didn’t matter.

            Ronan had threatened him.

            Adam fixed an icy gaze on the tattooed man. “What are _you_ doing here? I don't want to talk if that's what you want." 

            There was something terrible and unfamiliar in the other man's smile as he moved around the nose of the ruined car towards Adam. "I'm not here to talk.The car is fucking trashed. It needs to be fixed. " 

            He swallowed.

            There was a menacing swagger to Ronan’s walk as he neared him. Each step felt like a silent threat. He looked like a wildcat preparing to pounce on his prey.

            The taste of fear on his tongue was awful. What Adam hated, even more, was the fact that _Ronan_ was the one that put it there, a man that he had trusted.

            This wasn’t the Ronan he knew. This version of Ronan was a wild beast, a dangerous one. He was a bomb with a rapidly burning fuse just waiting to explode.

            “I don’t want to talk,” he repeated.

            Ronan didn't reply. Instead, his blue eyes scanned over Adam as though he was assessing every inch of him inside and out. After several tense moments, he gave him a wicked smile. "You're scared." 

            He was scared, but the malice in Ronan’s smile terrified him even further.

            Adam didn’t look away, though. He stared at Ronan’s blue eyes. His eyes fixed on his dilated pupils. “You’re high,” he replied, “and judging by the smell you’re drunk too. Judging by the time you must have started before five.”

            “It was five o’clock somewhere, my friend.”

            “I’m not your friend.”

            The seemingly impenetrable expression on Ronan’s face flickered for just a second. He blinked, feeling the impact of Adam’s words.

            “The Ronan I became friends with doesn’t get drunk, high, and threaten innocent people. This...this isn’t you.”

            Ronan’s once again seemingly infallible expression changed. It darkened the way clouds block the sun. He leaned in very close to Adam.

            Adam could smell the alcohol on his breath and he tried not to choke on it.

            “You don’t fucking know me at all,” he hissed.

            The blond couldn’t bring himself to reply. He couldn’t slow the rapid beating of his heart in his chest, even as he watched Ronan turn and retreat back to the passenger seat of the white car.

            Once Ronan slammed the door twice, Adam turned and went into the office.

            Boyd looked up from his paperwork. His expression changed from curiosity to concern when he saw Adam’s stormy expression. “What happened?”

            “I’m _not_ working on that car,” he said.

            Adam turned and looked back at the car sitting in the garage. Rage simmered silently in his gut. Those two couldn’t threaten him and then expect him to actually fix their ruined car!

            He looked at Boyd once again, “and if either of them come to the shop again, call the cops.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is from the song 'Ghost' by ZZ Ward.


	19. I'm Just a Son of a Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy spring! 
> 
> After some of the diverse responses from the last chapter I had to seek out some help. Thankfully, I was able to talk with someone who was able to help me out and talk me through what I can do/needs to be done to make things right between Adam and Ronan again without condoning abusive relationships. 
> 
> With that being said, I'd like to give a special thanks to tumblr user rororonanlynch! If you don't follow her/him you totally should!

            Adam was tired.

            He was tired from working two jobs, he was tired from studying, he was tired of stressing over finances, and tired of letting his mind run in rapid circles around a person that obviously didn't care about him as much as Adam cared for him.

            Something about Ronan’s new behavior didn’t sit right with him. Granted, his entire thoughts on the other man were soured from their past two interactions, but something about his energy didn’t seem right.

            Drugs and alcohol could possibly cause it, but whatever it was seemed more sinister than that.

            It almost seemed like that strange malevolent man he’d been with was...attaching his energy to Ronan somehow.

            It didn’t feel right.

            Ronan’s energy had always been blinding and powerful, more than anyone Adam had ever met. It was still light and strong, but it felt like there was a black hole in the middle of it, devouring his light slowly.

            It was weird.

            He didn’t know what to think of it and he wasn’t really comfortable going to the women of Fox Way about it. Especially, because his past two interactions with Ronan had been unacceptable.

            Still, the idea that the strange man with the Mitsubishi had managed to change Ronan so quickly was chilling. Ronan’s new behavior scared him, but that man terrified him even more. Something about him seemed purely...demonic.

            Adam dug through a stack of deconstructed boxes, trying to find the largest one he could. He was going to tape it back together so a woman at register four could use it to transport her surplus of cat litter. Either she was truly a crazy cat lady or she was trying to hide a body.

            He paused in his digging to rub his itchy eyes. He was exhausted.

            Thankfully, he had the next day off. He could finally catch up on some sleep and avoid Blue’s attempts to get him to agree on a blind date with one of her and Gansey’s friends.

            Adam had just started digging through the pile of cardboard when he heard the door open. "Steve," he snapped over his shoulder irritably, "I'm looking, okay? I'm not a miracle worker. Why does she need that much cat litter in the first place?"

            When his manager didn’t answer, Adam frowned and stood up straight. He turned around only to find Ronan standing a few feet away.

            Suspicion and distrust flared up in him instantly.

            Adam knew an exit was just a few steps away. He could make it there if he had to, but he made himself stay put. _You gave up on bullies the day you moved out of the trailer park,_ he reminded himself silently.

            Ronan said nothing. He simply stood with his hands in the pockets of his dark washed jeans and watched him.

            “I’m not fond of stalkers,” he said coldly, “and I don’t want to be around you.”

            The other man didn’t move from where he stood, but his lips twitched upward in an amused smirk. He was high.

            That smile sparked a small amount of fury deep within Adam’s gut. “Where’s your shitbag friend?”

            He shrugged his shoulders. “Kavinsky has his own shit to deal with.”

            They stood in silence for several moments. Adam wasn’t sure if he should leave or if Ronan had something he wanted to say.

            Ronan took a few steps towards him.

            Adam swallowed the lump in his throat and took a few steps back. His heart was starting to pick up speed, his palms were sweating.

            His smirk widened just a fraction.

            Adam’s anger roared softly in his ears. He thought it was funny!

            “You’re afraid of me,” Ronan finally said. “Why are you so afraid of me?”

            “ _Why_?” Adam asked astonished. “You’re asking me why I’m afraid of you.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’m afraid of you because you’re high, a few nights ago you almost _killed_ someone for drugs, and you threatened me!”

            He knew he should have left it at that, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was angry. The fire burning in his veins was too hot for him to ignore. It was burning away all of his flesh and leaving him with a charred and raw skeleton. The words were spilling out of his mouth before he could even stop them.

            "I grew up an asshole for a father," he said. His voice trembled while he spoke. Adam decided enough was enough. He wasn't okay with what had happened between them and he felt that Ronan needed to know that. He needed to know why it hurt so bad. "My dad was a dick that beat me because it made himself feel better about the shitty life he built for himself. My mom got pregnant, he got stuck in his shitty life,  and he blamed on me! He married her because she was knocked up. He had to work two jobs to be able to afford a shitty trailer and to feed me. It was my fault. Everything."

            He couldn’t miss the way Ronan’s blue eyes seemed to focus on him now that he was laying his soul bare. Something in them darkened, his smile twitched down.

            He felt a small sense of satisfaction for making Ronan’s expression darken. _Good_ , he thought, _he deserves to feel guilty for the shitty things he’s done._

            Adam couldn’t stop. He was too fired up to quit now. “When he found out I’d managed to save up enough money for college by working _three_ jobs he was furious. He beat the shit out of me. He hit me in the head so hard that I’m deaf in my left ear because of it!”

            At this, Ronan flinched like Adam’s words pained him. He took a half-step back and stared at him, electric eyes wide.

            “And I’m not telling you this to earn pity,” Adam snapped. “I’m telling you this because I’ve seen enough unnecessary cruelty to last a lifetime. I’m not dealing with it anymore because I left that shit in the trailer park and I’m _never_ going back.”

            It felt great to finally get all of that off of his chest. He hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of carrying the truth around with him had been until he’d let it all out.

            Ronan continued to stare through him, making Adam feel more raw and exposed than he had in a very long time.

            Adam met his gaze unflinchingly.

            After nearly a full minute of silence, the blond turned away and picked up a box. He didn’t look back as he left the back of the store and headed for the cash register. The other man could find his way out.

            He spent the rest of his shift angry.

            He was angry because he had trusted Ronan with everything and hadn’t been the person he had thought he was. He was angry because he had just angrily spewed the truth that he’d been desperately trying to avoid since he’d started school. He was angry because his life was one giant never-ending loop and he was stuck in it with no way out.

            He just wanted to get off of the hamster wheel. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted to live a normal life like everybody else!

            Adam sighed and felt his heart sink. Somebody had stolen his bike and that was the cherry on the top of his shit-sundae.

            A horn beeped, loud and obnoxious.

He found the source of the sound and his night finally looked up.

            Henry’s Fisker was parked, illegally in the fire lane, a few dozen yards away. He leaned out the driver’s side window, his hair almost sticking out above the roof of the car. “Parrish!” He called, “your bike is in the trunk! Get in! I’m going to give you a ride back to campus.”

            Adam wasn’t the greatest of friends with Henry, but they were friends nonetheless. For once, he was relieved that he didn’t have to ride his back the few miles back to campus before going to bed.

            Once he was securely buckled into the passenger seat of the car he gave Henry a tired smile. “What are you doing here?”

            “Doing something nice for a friend,” he replied with a shrug.

            They drove in silence. The radio was down so low that hardly anything sounded through the speakers. Adam wished the music was louder to distract him from the whirlwind of thoughts in his brain.

            Finally, Henry spoke up, “anxiety is not becoming of you.”

            He blinked and tore his gaze from the window.“What do you mean?” How had Henry known he’d been anxious from seeing Ronan? Was he really that good at picking up the finer details?

            “I recognize the look in your eyes,” he said. “I’ve seen it many times on people who didn’t deserve it.”

            Adam picked at a hangnail before replying, “some events over the past few days really have my mind messed up.”

            Henry just nodded his head once before turning on his signal and making a right-hand turn. He didn’t pry or ask any further questions. He seemed to know that Adam would reveal more if he wanted to.

            He appreciated it.

            After a few moments of silent contemplation, Adam figured that Henry was as good as anyone to talk about his problems with. "Somebody I know and trusted isn't who I thought he was. Like, I genuinely thought he was a good person and now he's doing drugs and hanging out with somebody who encourages his bad behavior. I'm just kind of upset about it."

            “Do you think this person could change for the better?”

            He thought about that question for a long silent moment. Did he? Did he think that some part of Ronan was redeemable? Even after everything he’d done?

            The stubborn part of him wanted to say no. That there was nothing salvageable left in the man he’d once trusted. His gut told him he was wrong. He had seen the look on Ronan’s face the other night at Boyd’s and he’d seen it again at the Stop ‘n Shop. There was still _good_ inside of him. The light in his energy hadn’t been completely consumed by darkness.

            “It might be possible,” Adam finally allowed.

            The other man nodded silently while he chewed over Adam’s words. “Do you want my opinion?”

            “It’s as good as any, I suppose.”

            “It’s human nature for people to make mistakes. I don’t know the details, but I can tell you what I know. People, like your friend, their lives are like a river. Their path runs straight and true...until there’s a boulder. Now, when the river hits that boulder, two things can happen. Sometimes, the course of the river is diverted forever and there’s nothing that can be done. From what I’ve observed, most of the time, the river is simply diverted for a short period of time before merging back onto its original course. If you truly have faith, this person could change back once they realize their mistake.”

            Adam considered his words, studying the outline of his smooth skin in the blue LED lights of the stereo.

            His gut told him Ronan could be saved.

            Persephone would have told him that was his intuition and that he should trust it.

            Adam didn’t know if he could. Everything that had transpired between him and Ronan had ultimately been a bad experience. He would really have to think about whether or not Ronan could be redeemed.

            "Maybe there's still good in him," Adam replied slowly, "but I don't know if I can fix him. Hell, it isn't my job to fix him! He fucked up. He put himself in this situation. If he wants to be fixed he can do it himself."

            “Your friend can only be helped if he _wants_ to help himself first," Henry agreed. "Perhaps you two shouldn't see each other until he decides he wants to change."

            “Perhaps,” he echoed. Even then, Adam wasn’t sure he’d find Ronan worthy of redemption.

            “You don’t have to forgive him unless you find him worthy of it.”

            Adam first admired Henry’s ability to read people, he had practically read his mind. Second, he admired Henry’s words. It felt good to know that he didn’t have to forgive Ronan if he didn’t want to.

            “Typically,” he added, “I find that my heart knows what’s best for me. Just remember, what’s best for me may not be best for you. Worry about yourself first. You deserve it, Adam.”

            He looked at Henry again and added, "that's a lot of wisdom for a twenty-two-year-old." 

            Henry gave a boisterous laugh and pulled up to the curb outside of Adam’s dorm. “Trust me,” he said, “I feel decades older than I look.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is from Fall Out Boy's song, 'Novocaine'.


	20. Meaner Than My Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! Another shout-out to rororonanlynch (on tumblr) and music-booksrlife for being a wonderful support system!

            The Red Maple Inn was a no-star hotel on the southern edge of Henrietta. Besides the roaches, the motel’s most frequent inhabitants were druggies, prostitutes, and the rich men in town who didn’t want their wives knowing what they were really up to on ‘golf night’.

            Ronan woke up on an unmade bed with a headache that made him hear his heartbeat in his ears. His mouth felt like someone had shoved a fist full of dusty cotton down his throat. He groaned and buried his face in the pillow. It reeked of body odor and cigarette smoke. He didn’t have the energy to lift his face away for some fresh air.

            The past week had been a blur. He didn’t remember much of it all. It was all covered by a drug-induced fog and accompanied by a blur of alcohol.

            He tried to think of a day where he’d been sober since the night he’d found Kavinsky lounging across the hood of the BMW.

            He couldn’t.

            Had he spent the entirety of a week drunk _and_ high?! Oh, father, that was bad. _Very_ bad.

            What was even worse was that he didn’t really remember much of it at all.

            He tried to think of any moments of complete clarity. When he came back empty-handed, he tried to remember the less blurred moments of the past week. They consisted of hazy memories that somewhat felt like a dream because of the high.

            He’d been in the park again, with Adam. He’d watched Kavinsky snort lines off of the dash of the Mitsubishi before pulling it into a garage. He remembered seeing Adam’s panicked face when Kavinsky’s fingers had reached for his sun-tanned throat. He remembered a bonfire, an empty bottle, the sharp tang of his own blood as Kavinsky slammed his closed fist into Ronan’s nose, and the musty smell of old cardboard boxes.

            Associated with the smell of old cardboard was a memory with Adam.

            That memory was vivid, burned in his psyche like branding iron against a fleshed hide.

            He could clearly see the anger, the frustration, and the _fear_ in Adam’s eyes. The hair on his arms stood up at the way Adam’s voice had trembled slightly from emotion and perhaps the pain of his battered youth.

            Before he had the chance to mull that moment over, he heard the squeal of neglected pipes from the bathroom as Kavinsky turned on the shower and stepped inside.

            Once Ronan was sure he was alone, he lifted his head from the rank smell of the pillow and looked around the outdated motel room.

            It seemed that every hard surface was littered with cigarette ash and empty booze bottles and cans. It looked like a bomb had gone off and had left clothes, empty chip bags, and old takeout in its wake.

            It was nauseating.

            The angel rolled out of the bed. His boots crushed an empty beer can as he stood up.

            It took him several long breaths to finally process everything he could see and remember.

            His mind sluggishly circled back to what had started this in the first place. Kavinsky had imprinted on him. Their souls were knit together. Kavinsky had force-fed him his blood while he’d been passed out drunk.

            Ronan pressed a hand to the center of his chest where he could feel a piece of K’s soul, dark and malevolent, pulsating deep within him.

            The fact that Kavinsky was a part of his _soul_ was terrifying, confusing, and frustrating.  

            He didn't want this imprint.

            If Declan found out about this it would be the end of the line for him. It was rare that he had been granted the second chance, to begin with. It would be his last.

            Was there a way to get rid of it? He would have to do some serious digging to find out whether or not it could be taken care of. He wasn’t sure where to begin.

            The bathroom door opened, letting out a cloud of hot steam, cheap cologne, and sulfur.

            Kavinsky kicked trash out of the way as he made his way into the main room in the hotel. He had a cheap threadbare towel twisted around his waist, his hair clung to his head like a wet mop. His pale skin was littered with pale old scars and pink newer ones.

            Ronan wondered how many times his flesh had been stripped from his bones and reattached, leaving him to heal and suffer in agony.

            When he felt Kavinsky’s preening satisfaction at being studied so closely resonate through the bond, Ronan snapped his gaze away.

            The demon slid into a chair at a rickety table. He lit a cigarette and lounged back in the chair. “D’you need more pills?”

            The idea of taking the pills sitting on the table was appealing. He liked the high, the rush, and the feeling of recklessness. He could _feel_ that Kavinsky wanted him to take them.

            He couldn’t. He’d been too much of a shithead over the past week to justify taking more pills now that he was sober. “No,” he finally said firmly. “You know I can’t keep doing this. You know damn well why.”

            Amusement trickled through their imprint like poison and Kavinsky’s grin was tainted with the same type of venom.

            Annoyance flared up within the angel and quickly shifted to fury. He knew Kavinsky felt it, but he couldn’t help but set his jaw furiously. “Do you think this is fucking funny, K?” He demanded. He stormed across the room and stood in front of the demon. “What are you doing here, you piece of shit?”

            If Ronan’s anger worried Kavinsky he didn’t express it through the bond or through the unwavering expression on his face. He flicked cigarette ash on the already filthy table and sucked in another long drag. When he exhaled, he blew the smoke right in Ronan’s face. “I’m looking for something,” he said, “and my search led me here.”

            Ronan’s teeth ground together so hard that it was impressive that he didn’t chip one of his teeth in the process. “Do you care to fucking elaborate?”

            “I don’t know,” he replied with a careless shrug. “Do I? Personally, I think it’s fun to watch you squirm. Let me finish my cigarette while I decide whether or not to let you in on my dirty little secret.”

            That cheeky reply rubbed him the wrong way, but if he had any chance of getting more information from Kavinsky, he would have to wait until he was done smoking.

            With an exasperated sigh, Ronan turned from him and began pacing the room.

            The demon didn’t seem to be in a rush. He sucked on the end of the filter like he had all of the time in the world. He enjoyed having Ronan on the end of his leash, trotting him out like a rabid show dog.

            Ronan turned just as Kavinsky pressed the smoldering end of his cigarette into the cheap wood of the table. He stood still for several tense seconds before he snapped. " _Well_?!”

            Kavinsky got up and stretched before crossing the room to stand in front of Ronan. He leaned in close enough that his lips almost brushed Ronan’s pale skin.

            He swallowed and looked down at the demon. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this invasion of privacy. Yet, heat and lust coursed through his veins. He didn’t think it belonged to him.

            He didn’t think--no, he _knew_ \--that he didn’t have feelings for Kavinsky the way that he used to.

            When he thought of Kavinsky the feelings that rose up were anger, anxiety, frustration, confusion, and fear.

            When he thought of Adam he felt happiness, wanting, joy, and now guilt.  

            Ronan reached out and gave Kavinsky a hard shove, earning him a hard look and a shock of cold fury through their bond.

            The demon retreated to the end table between the two grungy beds to snort a line of coke.

            “We saw Adam this weekend,” Ronan stated, his blue eyes not leaving the demon.

            At Adam’s name jealousy reared its ugly head on Kavinsky's half of the imprint. He wiped his nose and snorted what was left of the powder under his nose. “We did. What about it?”

            Ronan remembered Adam’s story and how, despite the drugs and the alcohol in his system, those words had managed to reach a spot within him. The _real_ him. He remembered his words, _“I’ve seen enough unnecessary cruelty to last a lifetime.” I’m not dealing with it anymore because I left that shit in the trailer park and I’m **never** going back!_ ”

            The jealousy grew more intense the longer Ronan’s thoughts lingered on Adam.

            Ronan didn’t even see Kavinsky get up from his spot on the bed until he was standing right in front of him. He opened his mouth to ask Kavinsky what he was doing standing so close, but the words didn’t come out fast enough.

            Kavinsky’s mouth was on his, hard and demanding. The kiss felt like it was sucking the life out of him as the demon pressed Ronan back, back, back until he was pinned up against the wall.

            Ronan tried to shove him off, but Kavinsky shoved right back.

            “Forget that white-trash hillbilly!” K snarled, his lips leaving Ronan’s just long enough to spit the words out before his mouth was on him again, cigarette smoke and mint toothpaste.

            He was revolted, disgusted, and furious.

            There was an intense ringing in Ronan’s ears. He was pretty sure he’d reached a rage he hadn’t reached in centuries. He lifted his hands and put all of his strength into shoving Kavinsky off of him. “Get the fuck off of me!”

            The rage that flared white-hot through the bond mirrored the brutal savagery in the demon’s expression.

            Ronan hated the bond. He didn’t want it. He never had.

            “Tell me how to break this fucking bond, K!” He spat.

            “Fuck off, Lynch!”

            It had been decades since Ronan had been this angry. He stood with his fists clenched at his sides, his muscles so tense they trembled. “Why? Why the fuck won’t you tell me?”

            “Because I fucking hate you!” The demon snarled back.

            The words silenced Ronan for half a second. At first, it was obvious that Kavinsky hadn’t meant them, that he’d said them out of envy and anger. Then, it was suddenly like K had latched onto them like a bear trap. He _embraced_ the idea that he hated the angel. Ronan felt it in the imprint.

            His heart sank. Any chance of convincing Kavinsky to leave town peacefully had disappeared into thin air right before him. Things were going to get ugly.

            “You’re jealous of Adam,” Ronan told him just because he was angry too.

            “No!” Kavinsky snarled. “I’m jealous of _you_. You got to live. You got to be an angel again while I suffered for _decades_ in Hell!” He moved closer to the angel, but not close enough to be within grabbing distance. "I want you to feel how I felt. I want you to feel caged like a rat in a trap with no way out, betrayed and angry."

            Ronan processed his words with cold-numb realization. He set his jaw and grabbed his jacket, throwing it on.

            “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Kavinsky demanded.

            “I’m going to find Adam and apologize.”

            That statement made something absolutely murderous rise up in the bond.

            Ronan _knew_ it was from Kavinsky. He didn’t stop as he gathered his few belongings.

            The demon’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Don’t fucking come back, Lynch. I’ve already done what I’ve wanted to do and I’ve _imprinted_ on you. Do you really think your precious human will come back to you after everything you’ve done to him? You’re dumber than I gave you credit for!”

            Those words felt like a glass of ice water poured down the back of his neck, but Ronan ignored him in favor of pulling his car keys out of his pocket.

            “You’ve got a shit-storm coming your way, angel-face! You can’t protect Adam forever!”

            Ronan didn’t dignify that with a response. He let the door to the motel slam in Kavinsky’s face before he got in the car and floored it, ensuring that he peppered the Mitsubishi with rocks and stones on his way out of the lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from Halsey's song 'Control'.


	21. I'm No Good at Lip Service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, Wednesday's updates have a tendency to sneak up on me! But, here we are with another chapter!

 

            _“The formation of urine involves the three following processes: glomerular filtration, tubular reabsorption, and tubular secretion. Homeostasis in the blood is a…”_

             Adam looked up from his textbook and rubbed at his itchy eyes. He'd spent several hours that morning cramming for the exam his anatomy and physiology professor was currently grading. He was using the break during lecture to get ahead on his notes for the next night. It helped him out with his busy work schedule.

            He felt a familiar presence overcome him.

            It was bright, blinding, but also had a darkness that seemed to slowly be consuming the sunny energy around it. It was unmistakably Ronan Lynch.

            His presence made Adam’s shoulders tighten automatically. Despite the fact that he was in the middle of reading his textbook, his eyes betrayed him and he found his gaze shifting to the double doors that led into the lecture hall.

            There, Ronan stood peering in. His mouth was pressed into an invisible line, his eyebrows drawn down in a slight scowl. His blue eyes didn’t shy away when he made eye contact with Adam.

            Adam ripped his gaze away and glowered at his book.

            He wondered if Ronan was just being a creep or if he wanted to talk to him. Maybe he wanted to apologize for his bullshit behavior.

            Either way, Adam didn’t think he was ready to talk to him. What Ronan had done to him had stung worse than any slap his father had ever given him. He didn’t know if he wanted to go out there and talk to him.

            “ _Homeostasis in the blood is…_ ”

            He felt so stupid for trusting himself to Ronan. How had he let himself get so vulnerable? He should have never let himself get so close to him.

            He let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head at himself. He forced his eyes to read the words over again, “ _homeostasis in the blood is an…_ ”

            The words blurred out of focus as he felt the atmosphere shift around him the way it did when he had a vision. He smelled gasoline and cologne, felt phantom stubble drag across his jaw, and felt the nip of nonexistent teeth against his lip.

            He snorted at the premonition and tried to focus on his textbook again. The future said that he and Ronan would be making out again. He thought the future was full of shit because he wasn't making out with Ronan in this lifetime ever again. 

            “ _Homeostasis…_ ”

            He had two options here. He could ignore Ronan and pretend like he never saw him here. Or, he could go demand to know why he was watching him during class and find out what the hell he wanted.

            He tapped his pen against his book anxiously. He wished he had the answers.

            He bit down on a piece of chapped skin on his lower lip, his mind going back to Henry’s wise words from the other night. He had reminded Adam that people made mistakes, but he had also told him that he didn’t have to forgive Ronan for the shitty things that he’d done.

He traced his deaf ear with an absent finger, torn between his options.

            With a resigned sigh, he pulled his backpack out from beneath his chair and pulled out the worn velvet bag that held his tarot cards. He thought of Persephone every time he held the weight of it in his hands.

            He pulled the cards out, closed his eyes, focused on his question, and shuffled them. He set them face down and pulled one card off of the top.

            The illustration depicted a man sitting regally on top of a silver throne. His left hand curled around the arm of his intricate throne. In the right hand, he held a sword pointed toward the sky, his face stern and impassive. The words beneath the meticulous drawing read, ‘The King of Swords'. 

            Adam frowned at the card. He didn’t _have_ to give Ronan second chance, but the card suggested that he could learn the truth if he went and talked to him. The best way for him to figure out whether or not he should forgive Ronan was to listen to him, take his fading morality into account, and decide from there.

            A glance at the door revealed that the other man hadn’t moved from the window.

            Adam stowed his cards away in his backpack and quietly wove his way through quiet students to meet the other man out in the hall.

            “What do you want?” He asked the taller man after he shut the door to the lecture hall.

            Ronan didn’t give him a reply. Instead, he turned and started walking away. He paused and jerked his head, indicating for Adam to follow after he hesitated.

            Adam frowned and followed him into the empty bathroom down the hall. He stepped inside and turned to face him, folding his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here? I already told you that I don’t appreciate having a stalker.”

            “I need to talk to you,” he replied before flicking the lock on the door shut.

            For half a second, Adam felt his heart stutter in his chest. He didn’t know how he felt about being locked in the bathroom with Ronan. The last time he’d been locked in a room with someone who had snarled in his face, it had been his father, locking his bedroom door before smacking Adam for getting a tardy in school.

            The air between them was thick with tension. The uncertainty and anxiety in the air were almost palpable. 

            Adam's eyes took in Ronan from head to toe. He looked how you'd expect someone to look after they'd been on a week-long bender; which was to say, like shit. He had bags under his blue eyes, his shaved hair was a little too long, his jaw had too much stubble, and his clothes were rumpled and filthy. 

            He sucked in a slow breath through his nose and exhaled it before telling Ronan, “I meant it when I said I didn’t want to see you again.”

            The other man sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “I know, okay?”

            “Then why are you here?”

            “I owe you an explanation.”

            “You owe me an apology.”

            “I know.”

            “I don’t have to accept it.”

            “I know. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

            Adam folded his arms across his chest and fixed Ronan with a chilly gaze. "I'm so interested in hearing the explanation as to why you went on a week-long bender, threatened me and another human being for drugs. I can't wait to hear why you suddenly transformed into the world's biggest dick or why, when a stranger showed up, suddenly everything I thought I knew about you is backward." 

            He sighed again and nodded, “I know. I know. I’ve put you through a lot of shit over the past week or so. Will you let me explain?”

            “I don’t know if I want to. I’m done giving exceptions to people who don’t deserve them.”

            It felt good to say it out loud. It felt good to get all of that pressure off of his chest. He felt like he could breathe again.

            Adam raised a brow, waiting to hear what he had to say, but when the other man didn’t speak for nearly a solid minute he shook his head in disappointment. He didn’t know why he’d gotten his hopes up. He moved past him and reached for the lock on the door.

            Ronan spoke again, his voice quiet and desperate, “Adam, _please_.”

            The way he said “please” was enough to halt him in his tracks. He paused, his fingers pressing against the cool metal of the lock. His mind went back to the King of Swords, to Henry’s words, and to brief revelation that Ronan had been in that... _monster_ that had come and visited him at work.

            He lowered his arm and glanced at his watch on his wrist. “Hurry up,” he told Ronan, “I can’t miss too much of lecture.”

            Ronan’s face was a complexity of emotions that were easy to miss if people hadn’t been paying attention. He tested his words on his tongue. “I...It’s complicated. Kavinsky is an ex of mine.”

            Adam’s brow furrowed as he tried to decide how this information was supposed to make him feel. “Is this supposed to make me feel better about your actions? It doesn’t.”

            “Fuck, no. I just...damn it. Okay,” he sucked in a breath and exhaled it in frustration. “I’m just trying to get it out in a way that makes sense. Kavinsky and I dated for a few years. For a while, things were good. Then, we had to break up. We got back together later, but things weren’t the same. Our relationship had gone toxic. Back then, he convinced me to make bad choices. I knew it was wrong, but I drank and did drugs anyway. I liked the way it made me feel. We split up again and I got clean. Now he’s back.”

            He listened to Ronan's story with a frown. So, this Kavinsky was Ronan's ex. He knew he had a problem and convinced him to do drugs and drink again? That was messed up, but it didn't make Ronan's actions excusable. 

            It was clear that the other man was waiting for Adam to say something. So he asked, “and you thought it was okay to drink and do drugs again? You thought this made it okay for you to hurt people?”

            He shook his head so violently it was shocking that he didn’t get whiplash. “No, Parrish! It wasn’t okay, okay? It was fucked up. I fucked up. It wasn’t right and I need to apologize for it.”

            “I don’t know if I can forgive you so easily,” he confessed.

            “I know. I meant it when I said I won’t blame you if you don't. You don’t have to. You shouldn’t have anything to forgive me for.” He swore softly under his breath and chewed on the bracelets looped around his pale, scarred wrist. “I just keep thinking about what you said the other night. You know, at the store.”

            Adam felt embarrassment flood through him, but he kept his expression passive. He had thought that Ronan had been too fucked up to remember anything he’d said. He would have never confessed the truth of his childhood to him otherwise.

            “I should have never done it. If I had been in my right mind…Christ, Adam, I would have never put my hands on you like that.”

            “That still doesn’t change the fact that you did.”

            “I know and I’m so fucking sorry.”

 

            His mind went back to the card he’d drawn in class. Paired with Henry’s words about people being like a river that diverges and rejoins its path gave him a small flicker of hope.

            He lifted his chin and fixed Ronan with an unwavering gaze. “Prove it,” he said. “If you’re truly sorry then you have to prove it to me. Make a change for the better. Show me you’re worthy of my forgiveness and maybe then I’ll give it to you.”

            He didn’t wait to hear Ronan’s reply. He was missing class. He didn’t look back as he unlocked the door and headed back into lecture.

            He sat down in front of his textbook. " _Homeostasis is part of the excretory process._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title comes from 'Irresistible' by Fall Out Boy


	22. I Will Drift to You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who celebrated Easter, I hope you've had a great one! To those of you who don't, I hope that you've been having a wonderful day!
> 
> Sorry for the late update today! I decided to host Easter dinner at my house so I've been crazy busy with that. I also bought a new laptop and I'm still learning it so it's taken me a while to figure it out. Also, I'm really just horrible about procrastination and didn't even finish this chapter until about ten minutes ago. So, sorry if there are any mistakes. I was in a hurry to post!
> 
> As a special treat, this chapter is longer than usual!

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

            The sound of someone violently slamming their fist against the door to Ronan’s apartment had the angel jumping off of the couch with his heart pounding in his throat.

            His first thought was that Kavinsky had managed to find out where he lived. Was the bond between them like a tracking device too? Christ, he needed to find a way to get rid of it before it was used against him even more than it already had been.

            He stood behind the door as whoever slammed their fist into did so again. He sucked in a steadying breath through his nose and exhaled it just as slowly. He checked the bond. He couldn’t tell _where_ Kavinsky was, which was a relief. That also (hopefully) meant that Kavinsky couldn’t find him with it. The imprint also told him that the demon didn’t seem as frustrated as the angry pounding on the door was.

            His second thought that it was Adam, but he realized that he’d never taken him to his apartment before.

            His brow furrowed and he gripped the doorknob tightly, it felt cool under his hand. Then, he twisted it and yanked the door open. “What the fu--” He abruptly stopped himself mid-swear when he saw Blue and Noah standing on the other side of the doorway.

            Blue took advantage of Ronan’s shocked silence to step past him and into his apartment. She frowned at the clutter of odds and ends from his collection, but she mostly seemed unsurprised by it all. “It almost makes me wonder if Gansey lives here too,” she said. “His dorm is always a mess.”

            Ronan knew that. He’d been there enough times to witness the mess himself. He didn’t comment on that, though. “What are you doing here?” He asked, shutting the door behind Noah. It was kind of startling to see her in the middle of his living room. She didn’t fit in among the drab furnishings of the room.

            Noah breezed by Blue to stand in front of the bookshelf of mementos. He reached out to pick up a model car. 

            “Don’t break my shit,” Ronan warned him.

            “Don’t worry!” Noah assured him as he traded the car for a snow globe with glitter in it. He shook it and smiled.

            Ronan rolled his eyes and looked at Blue. “Okay, so what are you doing here again?”

            "We're all going to a Halloween party in town," she explained, "and we want you to come." 

            The idea of himself in a costume was almost too amusing not to grin at. Still, he scowled at her anyway. “Tough,” he snapped. “I’m not dressing up in a stupid fucking costume.”

            The sound of shattering glass cut her off before she could even offer a rebuttal.

            Ronan snapped his gaze to Noah’s corner of the room and glared at him.

            Noah looked up at him with wide remorseful eyes as he looked at the shattered remains of the glass orb he’d been shaking around. His voice was full of disappointment, “aw man...the _glitter_!”

            “The glitter,” he echoed nonplussed. “The dustpan and the broom are in the kitchen.”

            Noah nodded and hunched his shoulders before leaving to get them.

            Blue watched him leave and then fixed her gaze on Ronan.

            He almost expected her to say something about the last time they’d met. He’d snapped at her for offering him a ride home after he’d spent the night drunk as fuck and under the influence of narcotics. He was sure she hadn’t forgotten, but he was also sure she felt like she was being a decent person by not bringing it up. He appreciated it.

            “Anyway,” she said, “you should come.”

            “Why?”

            She rolled her eyes. “First of all, it wouldn’t kill you to go and have some fun. I’m pretty sure you just hang out in this...tomb all day. Secondly, somebody I want you to meet is going to be there.”

            Ronan wasn’t interested in her blind date. He was busy trying to fix things between himself and Adam already. He highly doubted that getting drunk and hanging out with another guy was the way to earn his forgiveness. “No.”

            “Ronan!” She exclaimed. “I’m just trying to get you to go have fun for once in your miserable life.”

            “You’re not going to come?” Noah asked from the doorway to the kitchen with the broom in hand. “You have to! It won’t be the same without you there!”

            He flicked his cool gaze to Noah and opened his mouth to emphasize that he was _not_ going.

            “Your first drink is on me,” Blue offered with a smile.

            Ronan considered it a little more. He really needed to stay sober if he wanted to prove to Adam that he truly was sorry for his shitty actions. He shook his head.

            Noah made his way to Ronan’s side and wrapped a frigid arm around him. “Picture it,” he said as he held the broom out ahead of him like there was an entire horizon ahead of them instead of the bare, dingy living room walls. “Gansey dressed up as Julius Caesar! Could you picture him in a toga?!”

            He made a face in response to that mental image. “No.”

            “Wouldn’t it be funny to see?”

            He had to admit, the idea of Gansey in a toga was pretty hilarious. Plus, he didn’t drink often. Ronan wanted to be there to witness it.  

             “Is he really going to go in a toga?”

            “Mm...it’s to be decided,” Blue agreed.

            Ronan looked from her to the amused expression in Noah’s eyes and buckled like the ground opening up over a sinkhole. “Alright, fine. I’ll go.”

            “ _Yes_!” Noah exclaimed excitedly, a grin lighting up his typically sullen features.

            “But I’m _not_ wearing a costume.”

            Blue raised an eyebrow at him skeptically.

            “I’m serious. You won’t catch me dead in one of those things.”

            She made her way to the front door and shrugged. She made a sound like she didn’t really believe him, “hmm...we’ll see! Meet us at Gansey’s dorm after his classes so we can all get ready and go together.” Then, she and Noah left him to wonder what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

 

* * *

 

            Several hours, a double cheeseburger, and a brief nap later Ronan found himself knocking on the door to Gansey and Adam’s bedroom.

            He expected Gansey to answer it because Adam only ever seemed to be at work and in class. So, he was surprised to see him answer the door. “Adam,” he said as he took in the casual way the blond stood on the other side of the door, the way his sweater seemed to fit comfortably and the way jeans hung low on his hips without a belt allowed Ronan’s eye to wander.

            “Ronan,” Adam replied, studying Ronan with just as much intensity. “What are you doing here?”

            "Blue told me to meet her and Gansey here so we could all go to a Halloween party tonight. 

            Adam nodded a little and looked Ronan over one last time before stepping aside and letting him in. “He’s still in class, but he should be back anytime. I haven’t seen Blue since this morning, though.”

            Ronan nodded and made himself comfortable sitting on the edge of Adam’s bed. The last time he’d been here with him felt like it had been years ago. It had been the longest several weeks of his life, much of which was a blur from the drugs and alcohol.

            The mattress bowed slightly as Adam sat next to him. He didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he focused on his hands, picking at a callous like he could make it disappear forever.

            Ronan watched his nimble fingers pick at the skin. Finally, he asked, “what made you decide to change your mind? To give me a second chance?”

            His fingers paused and he looked up at Ronan, his blue eyes locked on his. "A friend once told me that it was normal for people to make mistakes. When I consulted my cards the other day they told me to use my best judgment after learning the truth." 

            “And?”

            “And the jury is still out, I suppose.”

            Those words felt like a knife buried in his gut, a dull, unsharpened knife. Yet, he deserved to be stabbed nonetheless.

            “You were a shithead.”

            “I was,” he agreed. There was no denying the fact that what he’d done was wrong. He couldn’t take his actions back, but he could do his best to prove to Adam that he truly was sorry.

            They were sitting close enough together that Adam’s thigh was pressed against Ronan’s. He could feel it burning his skin, even through his jeans. Ronan could smell Adam’s cologne, he could see the way his dust-colored hair caught the light, and the way the bags under his eyes were slightly less prominent than they had been during their last meeting.

            He wanted to kiss him, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to push the boundaries between them before Adam was ready.

            “I’m glad you decided to give me a second chance,” Ronan said. He dragged his eyes from Adam’s lips to his dark blue eyes.

            Adam didn’t miss the way Ronan had been staring. He met Ronan’s gaze unflinchingly. “I hope I will be too.”

            They were leaning in so close to each other, just a few breaths apart. It would have been so easy for either of them to close the gap and press their lips together. They were walking on a tightrope of uncertainty, both of them too afraid to push the boundaries too far; Adam because of the terrible things Ronan had done and said to him. Ronan, because he was afraid to push Adam too far.

            Adam’s hand reached up and pressed against Ronan’s jaw. His skin was warm against his face. He looked like he was torn between kissing him and saying something. He opened his mouth and…

            The door to the dorm opened, revealing Blue and Gansey on the other side.

            “Oh!” Blue exclaimed as she adjusted the multiple bangles dangling from her wrist. “You two have already met, I see.”

            “Yeah,” Adam replied. He dropped his hand down to his lap. “We’ve known each other for several weeks now.”

            Blue sent an accusing look in Ronan’s direction. “You didn’t tell me that you two were dating!”

            "Because we're not!" He replied, standing up. He looked her up and down. "Are you going as a psychic to this Halloween party? Really?" 

            She ignored the first part of his sentence and adjusted the scarf around her head. “Yeah, why not? Everybody else in my house is a psychic. It’s my turn for a change.”

            He flicked his gaze to Gansey, who was dressed up like Indiana Jones. “And you’re Indiana Jones? Really?” He didn’t miss the irony in the costume. Gansey was obsessed with ancient relics and exploring other lands. He supposed his best friend was an Indiana Jones of some sort.

            “Adam,” Blue said moving around Ronan to hand him a plastic bag. “Here’s your costume. You can put it on. Ronan, here is yours.”

            Ronan sniffed at the bag disdainfully. “I’m not wearing it.”

            “Just look at it, at least. Noah picked it out. He thought it was hilarious.”

            Ronan opened the bag and peered inside. “Are you shitting me?” He asked as he pulled out a set of fluffy white wings and a sparkling halo. Noah and Henry were the only ones in their friendship circle that knew he was an angel. He should have known better than to trust Noah to pick out his costume. He was sure his ghostly ass was cracking up somewhere.

            “I’m not wearing this,” he finally informed her before dropping the bag on Adam’s bed while Adam excused himself to get dressed.

            “Noah picked it out for you,” she argued, “and he’ll be offended if you don’t wear it.”

            “Boo-fucking-hoo.”

            “Amuse me,” Adam said, glancing over his shoulder before leaving the room to put his costume on.

            “What a cheeky little shit,” Ronan muttered as he shrugged the straps to the wings over his shoulders. He put the stupid fucking halo on his head and silently promised himself that he’d re-kill Noah later.

            “We’re here!” Henry’s voice called from the hallway. He appeared in Gansey’s crowded room with a pale face, red blood dripping from the corners of his lips, and plastic fangs.

            “Are you serious right now?” Ronan demanded.

            Henry was always cracking jokes about being a vampire and nobody ever questioned it. Granted, Blue, Gansey, and Adam had no idea that vampires were real or that Henry was one.

            Henry gave Ronan a dry look and said, “ _dead_ serious.”

            “Where’s Noah?”

            “Right here!” Noah exclaimed from around Henry’s shoulder.

            Ronan studied him. He looked just like he always did in his rumpled sweater with messy blond hair and pale skin. “Where is your costume.”

            “I’m a ghost.”

            "You don't look like a ghost," Gansey said. 

            "Ghosts can look just like normal people."

            Ronan rolled his eyes violently. Of course, he was going as a ghost. 

            “Are we ready to go?” Blue asked looking at them.

            “Let me go get Adam from the bathroom,” Gansey said before wading through them to go fetch Adam. “You guys can wait for us in the parking lot.”

            Five minutes later Adam and Gansey showed up. Adam wore a top hat, a billowing cape, and a sequined vest. “I’m a magician, I guess.” He looked at his outfit and shrugged at Ronan. “I’ll ride with you and Henry and Noah can ride with Blue and Gansey.”

            That was fine with him.

            Ronan got in the car, not giving a damn about his fake wings as he slid behind the wheel.

           

* * *

 

            Despite his reservations about going to a Halloween party at one of the most obnoxious clubs in a thirty-mile radius, Ronan was actually enjoying himself. 

            He had refrained from drinking too much and enjoyed watching Blue, Gansey, Henry, and Noah get on the dance floor. They had even managed to drag Adam out on the floor and get him dancing with his sequined vest and top hat.

            “You’re staring at me,” Adam said over the heavy bass thumping through the speakers. He had to lean in close to Ronan to be heard over the music.

            “You noticed, huh? Is that because of your psychic abilities?”

            “No,” he replied. His lips turned upward in an amused smile. “I have eyes, you know. I can see you staring at me. I don’t have to have any psychic feelings about it.”

            Ronan knew he should be embarrassed being caught staring at Adam like a smitten schoolboy staring at his first crush, but he didn't look away from him. He wasn't ashamed. They'd already had sex. There wasn't much more they could do to make it "embarrassing". "Does it bother you?" He asked. 

            Adam didn’t back away from the bold challenge. Instead, his smile curled up slightly higher on one side than the other. “No,” he replied. “I’m just curious as to what you find so interesting about me.”

            He could think of a million things he found interesting about Adam in _that_ vest, moving his hips like _that_ , wearing an expression that was carefree and happy for a change. Each one of them flashed in his mind’s eye, but he didn’t put them to words. Naming them would take too long.

            “Everything,” he finally said. “I find everything interesting about you.”

            “You’re not really drinking tonight,” Adam noted.

            “After my poor decisions I’ve made recently, I decided that maybe not getting completely shit-faced was in my best interested.”

            Adam’s smile shifted from one that was flirtatious to one that was genuine and touched. “That...that really means a lot to me.”

            Ronan wasn’t good at the touchy-feely crap like most people were. He just shrugged his shoulders and then pushed off from the table. “I’ll be back. I have to take a piss.”

            The bathrooms at the club were in the very back. Ronan had to carefully walk around the dancefloor full of crowded people to get to it. He had to avoid getting hit by shimmering fairy wings, a witch broom, and a pirate sword.    

            The bathroom was dark and disgusting like most club bathrooms typically were. Writing on the wall declared that a certain woman was a slut and another said to call "Tex" for a good time. He didn't pay any attention to it and went about his business.

            He was washing his hands when the door swung open again. A glance in the mirror revealed a man that wasn’t a man at all. His thin, partially deformed features, and ebony eyes revealed that he was more demon than man.

            The demon hissed, his breath smelling of sulfur and death, right before he lunged at Ronan.

            Ronan swore and ducked out of the way of curled talons and a vicious swing. He used his low stance to wrap his arms around the demon's bony waist and drive him back into the wall. 

            A terrible screech sounded from the demon’s maw. It was a sound that shredded Ronan’s eardrums.

            The long mirror on the wall shattered, raining down on them, sharp and glittering.

            Ronan swore as the demon’s claws dug into the flesh over his ribs. It burned. “You fucking bastard,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

            He’d meant it as a rhetorical question, but the demon answered in a hiss that reminded him of steam coming a manhole cover in the street. “You’ll see, _angel_! We’re going to bring Hell to Earth. It will belong to us!”

            The angel’s blood turned to slush in his veins. That couldn’t be what Kavinsky was doing here...right? He’d told Ronan that he had come to Earth to cause more problems than just fucking up his love life. He had assured him that there was more to his plan than he was willing to let on.

            “You’re lying!” He snarled, shoving the demon so hard that his malformed head cracked audibly against the brick wall.

            “Hell will _reign_!”

            Fury overcame Ronan fast and hot. Not on his watch. He would put a stop to this once and for all. He wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to this planet or the people that inhabited it. “You’re wrong, you ugly bastard.”

            He pressed his hand over the demon’s face, paying no mind to snapping teeth, and put all of his fury into the intent to smite him.

            There was a blinding white light and Ronan watched as the demon disintegrated into nothing.

            He took a step back and kicked the ash off of his boots. His mind was wheeling at a million miles-per-hour at the information that Kavinsky was trying to bring Hell to Earth.

            “What the _fuck_?!”

            Ronan whirled around to find Adam leaning back against the wall, hands braced against the graffiti-smattered bricks like he was bracing for impact, his blue eyes wide and terrified.

            “What the fuck was that?! What just happened?”

            "Adam!" Ronan exclaimed, scrambling for an answer. He didn't really have one. Adam had witnessed him smiting the demon at the very least and perhaps he'd heard the demon's confession as well. "I...uh…"

            His first thought was to make Adam fall asleep again, but he didn’t want to do that either. That was lying and he wanted to prove to Adam that he wasn’t the person he’d been in the past.

            He swore softly under his breath and tossed his stupid fucking fake halo aside so he could run a stressed hand over his buzzed head. “I guess I owe you an explanation."

            “No shit!”

            His mind was still half-encapsulated in what the demon had told him. If Hell came to Earth, the angels would come down to fight. If that happened, all of humanity would be wiped out. No mortal could survive a war between Heaven and Hell. He needed to stop it. He needed to get his friends out of here. He needed to give Adam and explanation.

            His friends deserved to know the truth.

            It was clear that Adam was still waiting for an answer.

            “Fuck,” Ronan said, “okay…” He paused to gather his thoughts. He needed to get them to a place where the demons (and more specifically, Kavinsky) couldn’t get to them. The church would be the safest place for them. “Gather everyone up and tell them to meet me at St. Agnes. It’s important and it can’t wait. I’ll explain everything there.”

            Adam looked at him like he hadn’t really heard a word that he’d just said.

            “Adam?”

            This snapped the other man out of it. He blinked and looked at Ronan, “St. Agnes. Okay, I got it.”

            Ronan watched him dash out of the bathroom like his life depended on it. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of impending doom. He had a feeling that he was royally and totally fucked.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from the Fall Out Boy song 'Where Did the Party Go'.


	23. Saints Just Swimming in Our Sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have to admit that this morning isn't off to a great start. Things can only get better from here, right? Also, I really liked writing this chapter! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do!

            Adam’s palms were sweaty. He kept trying to wipe them off on his black pants, but the sweat was back just as quickly as he could wipe it off. So, he settled for balling them up into fists and resting them on his thighs. His right leg wouldn’t sit still. He bounced it up and down with such ferocity that it jostled the entire church pew with it.

            He had thought the night that he’d watched Kavinsky kill those men in the park had been a dream. It had been the only logical explanation for what he had seen. Kavinsky had reduced the two men to ashes with nothing but a touch.

            It wasn’t possible.

            It _shouldn’t_ have been possible.

            Yet, he’d seen Ronan do that exact thing with just a touch.

            Everything Adam thought he had known about the world had been turned upside down.

            He sat next to Blue and some guy that had been at Cheng’s party. He smelled heavily of wet dog, but he didn’t seem too worried as he lounged in the pew next to him.

            There were a handful of other people here that Adam recognized from around campus, but had never spoken to. He wondered why Ronan had gathered them here and why they were all at St. Agnes in the first place.

            Ronan stood on the pulpit. Everything about him from the thin line of his mouth, the tension in his shoulders, and the way he stood made it obvious that something was making him anxious. He kept eyeing the giant crucifix like he expected Jesus to climb down from the cross and scold him.

            Knowing Ronan, he’d probably done something to deserve a scolding anyway.

            Adam leaned forward and looked at Blue and Gansey, hoping that maybe one of the two of them would know why Ronan had chosen this particular place to speak to them. Judging by the hard press of Blue's mouth into a line and the pensive way Gansey was brushing his lower lip with his thumb, they had no idea either.

            Adam had never been in a church before, but St. Agnes seemed to fit what he’d imagined, with the exception of Ronan standing before them like he was about to deliver the most terrifying sermon ever. It left him to ponder on what they were doing here.

            Blue looked over at him, returning his curious look. She knew just as much about this situation as Adam did.

            "Okay," Ronan said with a great sigh. He started to pace anxiously across the shaggy carpet. "I have to come clean about a few things."

            Nobody said anything as they waited for him to continue.

            He stopped his anxious pacing and looked at each of them sitting before him. He chewed on the black bracelets looped around his wrist for a few seconds before he put them down. “I...I’m an angel.”

            His statement was met with silence.

            Were they supposed to believe that? Ronan was the very opposite of what an angel epitomized.

            Beside Adam Blue barked out a laugh. “The Halloween costume was just a joke, Ronan!”

            “Ha-ha,” he replied sourly. “I wish I was joking.” Ronan cast a fleeting look over his shoulder at the crucifix before he shed his jacket and stretched a _massive_ pair of elegant, black wings behind him.

            Adam was pretty sure his heart stopped.

            His mind went back to the jagged, angry scars that ran parallel down Ronan’s back on each side of his spine. He remembered the way the skin had felt beneath his fingers. He hadn’t seen the wings then, but he could clearly remember the way his body had shuddered beneath that soft touch.

            Ronan’s wings gave a mighty shake, causing all of the shining black feathers to fall into alignment. They were as black as an oil spill, glistening in the low light of the church. Their very presence had stunned Ronan’s audience into silence.

            Adam was awed by them, like the others. He wanted to card his fingers through the feathers. _God is real_ , he thought to himself as he looked at Ronan.

            The fact that he was an angel explained so much but left Adam with so many questions as well. It explained the other-worldliness about him. It explained the blinding light in his aura, his strength, and the way he carried himself that left Adam with unexplained awe.

            Ronan met his gaze unwaveringly. “That night you wrecked your car,” he said, “it was me that pulled you out. I healed your injuries before the paramedics arrived.”

            This new information left his head spinning. He had thought that Ronan had been there just before the paramedics arrived. The scar on his thigh was proof that he'd been healed but hadn't known how. The fact that Ronan had done it with just a touch was mind-boggling.

            “Gansey,” he said as he addressed his best friend, “years ago you were playing hide-and-seek in the woods when you stumbled across a nest of ground hornets. You probably didn’t realize it as you were dying, but you called out for help. I showed up just as your heart was starting to take its last beat. I saved you. It was only by chance that our paths happened to cross a decade later.”

            Gansey dropped his hand to his lap and leaned forward, studying Ronan with a sparkle in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked. He didn’t sound offended, just genuinely curious.

            “I kept it a secret for your safety. For all of your safety.”

            Noah leaned forward and folded his arms over the pew behind Adam. His arms were cold where they pressed against Adam’s shoulder. “I already knew you were an angel and I’m fine!”

            Henry elbowed him in the ribs, “we don’t count. We’re already dead.”

            His words were met with silence for three who seconds before Blue erupted, _“what_?!”

            Noah gave her a bashful smile and a shrug. “I’ve been dead for seven years. I’m a ghost.”  

            “Why didn’t you tell us?”

            “Nobody really asked. Besides, I’ve said stuff about it and you guys didn’t really listen.”

            Her gaze swiveled to Henry. “Are you a ghost too?”

            “Not quite,” he replied with a rueful smile. He held up his cape so he was hiding the lower half of his face. “I’ve been a vampire since the seventeenth century.”

            “ _What_?!”

            He shrugged and smiled at her, “it’s not something I’m too proud of.”

            Adam didn't think he could handle any more bombshells for the night.  Angels, ghosts, and vampires?! He was a psychic, but this information was still shocking and bewildering to learn. Out of all of his friends, only Blue and Gansey were human! That was insane!

            “Why didn’t any of you say anything?” Blue asked, looking at Ronan again.

            Ronan shook his head and dismissed her question, “it doesn’t matter. The safety of you three humans in the room is the most important thing to me. We have to work together to keep you safe.”

            Three humans. There were three humans in the room and three times as many supernatural creatures. This information floored Adam and seemed to make his brain short-circuit.

            They were the minority!

            Ronan was an angel.

            Oh god, he’d had sex with an _angel_! That revelation was almost as flooring as the first. He felt like he was on a rollercoaster being sent into an infinite spiral of loop-de-loops.

            Adam gripped the polished wood of the bench beneath him, trying to steady himself.

            Ronan was an angel. A literal _angel._ Which, had to be the most ironic sentence ever to be thought by man.

            Adam finally found his voice after such a long stretch of silence. “Why are you telling us this now?”

           

            He felt sick. The end of _humanity_? That was no small task.

            _Clap. Clap. Clap._

            Slow clapping sounded from the back of the church, everyone twisted around to look at the newcomer.

            "Forgive me, father," Kavinsky drawled with an amused grin as he made his way down the aisle between the pews, "for I have sinned...and sinned...and _sinned_.” The demon flashed them a razor-sharp grin as he made his way to the front of the church. “What a truly inspiring speech,” he told Ronan. “I can’t wait to hear the rest of your sermon.”

            The black energy pouring out of Kavinsky was familiar and Adam stiffened in his pew as he recognized it. Not only had he witnessed it beforehand when he’d run into Kavinsky before, but it was the same energy that seemed to suck the light out of Ronan’s aura.

            Ronan’s voice was cold and as sharp as a blade, “what are you doing here. _How_ are you able to come in here?”

            Kavinsky seemed unfazed by his tone. “Do you remember what I used to be before your brother killed me? A Nephilim. For some reason, that factor allows me to come across your precious hallowed ground.”

            Ronan’s glare could have frosted over the seas.

            “You do remember the night your brother murdered me in cold blood, right? You cried in the corner because he clipped your precious wings. Does that sound familiar?”

            Adam’s fingers gripped the polished wood of the pew even tighter as the church seemed to spin around him. He remembered a dream that he’d thought had been part of his past lives. He remembered the agony as a flaming sword was thrust right in the center of his chest, the vivid detail as the wings were cut from Ronan’s body, and the very real terror he’d felt.

            The dreams were from Kavinsky’s old life, of his life with Ronan.

            “Ah,” Kavinsky said with a nod in Adam’s direction. The warlock gets it. He _knows_. You see, Ronan, I've been whispering in his ear while he's been sleeping. I've been telling him about all of the things we used to do. I told him how you got me killed so he could heed my warning. It's too bad that he's too fucking stupid to listen. Now, he's stuck here with the rest of you losers."

            Adam frowned, _warlock_?

            Ronan’s patience was non-existent when it came to Kavinsky. He scowled at the demon and spread his wings in a terrifying and threatening gesture. He looked like he was ready to smite Kavinsky so he could join his demon friend that Ronan had turned to ashes earlier that night. He took two very predatory and intimidating steps towards Kavinsky.

            “Ah, ah, ah, Lynch!” Kavinsky sneered waggling his finger at him, totally unfazed by the threat.

            On the other side of Blue, Gansey made a strangled sound. His eyes got wide, his hands clutched at his throat.

            "If you take another step your best buddy dies from a snapped neck," Kavinsky eyed the way Gansey's face was turning red with mild disinterest, "that is if he doesn't choke to death first."

            Ronan’s face darkened into a feral expression that made the hair on Adam’s arms stand up. He took a big, deliberate step back. If looks could kill, Kavinsky would have been dead ten times over.

            Gansey’s face was a terrifying purple. He looked like he was going to pass out if Kavinsky kept his telekinetic hold around his throat for a few seconds longer.

            “What the fuck do you want, K?” Ronan snarled at him, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. “What are you _really_ doing here?”

            Kavinsky looked bored with Gansey’s inability to breathe. He flicked his fingers in Gansey’s direction.

            Gansey sucked in a large wheezing breath, his hands went to his throat. He coughed and slumped back against the hardwood of the pew as he tried to slow his heart rate and regain oxygen to his brain.

            The look Blue gave the demon was laced with poison.

            “What do _I_ want?” Kavinsky asked Ronan, unaffected by Blue’s scowl. “I want The Book of The Damned. I want it soon and if I don’t have it in a timely fashion, your friends will start dropping like flies.”

            Ronan looked like Kavinsky had asked him to find an undiscovered element on the periodic table. “What the fuck? How the hell am I supposed to find The Book of The Damned?”

            “Look at your friends, angel-face. With a boy with a penchant for finding lost things, a ghost that knows too much, three witches in town, and a vampire you should be able to find it.”

            Ronan stared at him, rendered speechless

            The entire church smelled of sulfur.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter is from the Fall Out Boy song 'Twin Skeletons'.


	24. Up For Making Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another delay, I'm sorry! I just got home from a 4.5 hour trip, so my update is a little later this evening. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me so far! You comments and kudos really give me motivation!

            Adam hadn’t slept for more than a few hours since Halloween. For once, it wasn’t because of his classes or work.

            The bomb that Ronan had dropped had shaken him to the core. Angels, demons, ghosts, and vampires...they were all real! All of that information was so overwhelming that Adam hadn't even left his room since Tuesday night.

            He had missed the last day and a half of classes. He’d gotten his notes via email from his professors and he was thriving on sandwiches Gansey had smuggled out of the dining hall.

            He didn’t know if he was suffering from anxiety, depression, or both. From what he understood, they kind of went hand-in-hand.

            Adam looked at the clock and pulled the covers up to his chin. He didn’t have work and he wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t leaving his dorm. There were demons out there. Not just any demons, but angry ex-boyfriend demons that wanted to jump-start the apocalypse.

            The sound of a pen rolling off of his desk caught his attention.

            Adam grabbed his oncology book sat upright in bed, fully prepared to clobber the demon that had been whispering in his ear while he slept. He fully expected to see a demon with claws and beaks like the one that had landed on his car a month ago, or Kavinsky standing next to his bed. Instead, he saw Noah fading into existence.

            He supposed that now that everyone knew that he was a ghost, Noah didn’t have to go through the formalities of knocking on doors and walking places when he could literally just pop in and out of a room at will.

            Adam had never seen Noah just kind of...solidify before. It was pretty fascinating. He started out as a ripple in the air, color slowly filtered in, then he started to take shape, and finally, he looked human.

            “What are you doing here?” Adam asked him.

            Noah's brow furrowed as he looked at Adam bundled up in bed with stubble growing on his chin and two-day-old pajamas. He just shrugged before saying, "I think you should go to class."

            He didn’t dignify that with a response. He wasn’t going to class. Not today. Instead, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were dead?”

            “I have.”

            It was the same response Noah had given them the other night.

            Adam thought back about all of the jabs and jokes Noah had made about being dead. When Adam had first met him, she’d shaken Noah’s freezing cold hands and Noah had said, “ _I’ve been dead for seven years, that’s as warm as they get_.” There had been other instances, but that was the one that had stood out to him the most.

            “I always thought you were kidding.”

            Noah gave him a shrug in response. “You didn’t know.”

            Suddenly, the nasty smudge that Adam had always passed off as a weird birthmark seemed ominous. In just the right light, it seemed like a bruise. Other times it gave the illusion that Noah’s face was _dented_.

            “How did you die?”

            The question seemed to make the ghost extremely uncomfortable. He buried his hands in his pockets and nudged the pen he’d knocked off of Adam’s desk with his foot.

            Adam was pretty sure Noah's silence confirmed foul play like he'd suspected. He didn't try to pry answers from him either. If he wanted Adam to know, he'd tell him.

            “Why aren’t you in class?” Noah asked, bringing up the subject of Adam’s missed schooling once more.

            Adam sat up and leaned against the headboard of his bed. He picked at a callus on his hand while he spoke. "This entire thing is so... _crazy_. You’re real, Henry’s a vampire, Ronan is an angel, and his ex-boyfriend is a demon that wants to end the world. I’m slightly overwhelmed--hell, even terrified--by it all. Even if I go to class, I won’t be able to focus.”

            Noah studied him, his blocked head cocked to the side, hiding his smudged cheek from view. Finally, he nodded a little. “I get it.”

            Adam wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. “You get it? No offense, but you’re a _ghost_. How do you get what I’m feeling about all of this?”

            “I get scared too sometimes,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m afraid that one day I won’t be able to manifest anymore. You know that movie about the girl who dies and she watches her family and tries to interact with them, but they don’t see her?”

            He didn’t, but he just nodded so Noah would continue.

            “I’m afraid it will be like that. I’m afraid one day I’ll just...poof out. It’s hard for me to stay present without Blue or Ronan around. They give off a lot of energy y’know?”

            Adam did know. He knew that Blue made things clearer. She was a psychic battery, or a mirror if you asked Gwenllian (and nobody ever did, but she gave her opinion anyway). Ronan, because he was a celestial being radiated energy. It was kind of like standing next to the sun.

            Noah frowned and looked at his hands. He flickered out and then back in so quickly Adam wasn’t sure if he had blinked or if it had really happened.

            “Noah, are you okay?”

            Noah looked up from his hands and at Adam. For the first time, he looked inhuman. He was more ghoul than man. His eyes were gone, leaving empty sockets. He had hollow cheeks, his lips had vanished, revealing his teeth in a horrifying way.

            Adam felt his heart catch in his chest.

            As quickly as Noah’s features had been distorted, they were back. He looked more like the friend Adam had come to know.

            “Are you okay?” Adam asked after a pregnant pause.

            The ghost’s frown deepened and he looked back from his hands to the psychic. “I--” Then, he flickered like a bad light bulb before vanishing.

            It was weird being alone. Rather, it was weird being left alone in that way. One moment, Noah was there. The next, he was gone. It was instantaneous.

            Adam bent over and picked up the pen Noah had knocked off the desk. When he stood up, there was _another_ person in his room.

            Being that he was already feeling high-strung from Noah’s sudden appearance and disappearance, Adam seized the book on his desk and swung it at the body who hadn’t been there when he’d bent to pick up the pen.

            _Demon_ , he thought as the book made contact with fair skin.

            Hands with black leather bracelets looped around scarred wrists reached out and took the book from him. “ _Seriously_?”

            Adam surrendered the book and forced his heart to slow down enough that it no longer felt like it was going to explode. He looked up at Ronan, wide-eyed and stunned. “How did--you’re in here. You didn’t use the door!”

            Ronan studied the textbook in his hands with an unimpressed look. He held it up so Adam could see it. “For future reference, you’re going to need a lot more than a book to hurt me. I’m an angel, remember?”

            “I can’t forget,” he muttered. He reached up and traced his finger along the edge of his deaf ear. “What are you doing here?”

            “I’m here to protect you.”

            Adam was an adult. He didn’t need Ronan’s protection. He wasn’t a damsel in distress waiting for someone to save him from the big, bad demon. But, if Ronan was offering his protection, Adam didn’t necessarily want to turn it away.

            He'd seen Kavinsky disintegrate two men with a touch. He'd watched him choke Gansey without lifting a finger. He was dangerous and Adam's knowledge of demons was limited to the horror movies he and Blue had binge-watched the summer he'd stayed at Fox Way.

            Maybe having Ronan’s help wouldn’t be such a bad thing, after all.

            Ronan was still standing motionless with the book in his hands. He looked like he was afraid of stepping on Adam's toes by offering his protection because they'd had an argument over it before.

            Adam reached out and took the book from him. “Alright,” he said granting him permission. “Protect me how?”

            The tension in Ronan’s shoulders seemed to relax just a little. He pulled a knife out of his pocket. When he opened the blade it was sharp and deadly looking. He pressed the blade to his palm, blood welled up around it, glinting crimson.

            “Ronan, what are you doing?”

            Ronan didn’t answer right away. He stepped up on Adam’s bed and pressed his bloody palm to the pale-beige wall and started to smear the blood in a circle.

            Adam couldn't believe what he was seeing. He opened his mouth and closed it, at a loss for words. There was a five-hundred-dollar fee that came with having maintenance repaint the walls at the end of the semester.

            Five hundred dollars was a lot of money.

            “What are you doing?!” He demanded as Ronan cut his hand again and continued his work. “ _Ronan_ , there’s a five-hundred dollar fine for repainting the walls! I’m going to get in so much trouble!”

            “Relax, Parrish.”

            He wasn’t going to relax. Five hundred dollars was textbooks, was a new outfit for expensive social events, a car payment with insurance and registration.

            Five hundred dollars was a lot of money.

            Once Ronan finished the sigil he hopped down off of the bed.

            “Besides making it look like I worship the devil and slapping me with a five hundred dollar fine, what does this thing actually do?”

            Ronan wiped the knife on his jeans and closed it. He showed Adam his palm, which was red with dried blood but had no cut on it. He reached out and placed his hands on Adam’s shoulders to steady him. “It’s a sigil to make it impossible for Kavinsky to find you here. I’m not going to let him hurt you. You also need to relax a little. Everything is going to be fine.”

            How was everything going to be fine? Monsters were real. Demons and angels were real. A demon was in Henrietta, looking for a book that supposedly didn’t exist and if it did, it was full of dark magic.

            Still, despite his million-mile-per-hour thoughts, Ronan was here. His hands were warm and firm on Adam’s shoulders. He was solid, unwavering. He was a rock off of the coast of stormy seas, unrelenting and stable.

            _Everything is going to be fine_.

            Somehow, he believed it. He had to.

            Adam stared back at Ronan,  deciphering the multitude of emotions in his pale blue eyes. Ronan’s eyes and actions spoke a lot of words, even if his mouth said few. His eyes were filled with honesty, exhaustion, concern, and just a slight bit of amusement.

            "Why aren't you in class?" Ronan asked, removing his hands from Adam's shoulders.

            The calmness he'd felt a minute ago was gone. "Why does everybody need to know why I'm not in class today?!" He demanded in exasperation. "I just had the biggest bombshell of my life dropped on me; my best friend had been reincarnated, another one of my friends has died and _stayed_ dead, another friend has been skipping meals and taking night classes because he’s a fucking _vampire_! And, to top it off, a guy that I have mixed feelings for and have slept with is an _angel_ with a jealous _demon_ for a boyfriend! And you guys want to know why I’m not in class beating my head off of a desk trying to memorize microbiology terms?!”

            Ronan appeared unruffled by Adam’s uncharacteristic outburst. He raised a dark brow and looked around the room. “You need to get the fuck out of this shoebox.”

            Adam wiped a hand down his face, embarrassed by his outpouring of emotions and words.

            "Do you trust me?"

            He eyed Ronan. Did he? Did he trust him? He did. Not as much as he should, but more than he had since their falling out. “Slightly,” he replied, “but I’ll go with you to get some coffee.”

            That answer seemed good enough for the angel. He turned to Adam’s dresser and yanked it open. He tossed a sweater and a pair of jeans at him. “Good. Take a shower and get dressed. You’re starting to reek, Parrish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Adam is coping about as well as I would be! 
> 
> This chapter's title is inspired by a line in the Imagine Dragons song 'Rise Up'.


	25. We Could Put the Past Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to rororonanlynch (on tumblr) for being an awesome supporter and noorasdandekar for being an amazing reader/reviewer and leaving me super long (and fantastic) comments!
> 
> And, of course, I'd like to thank everyone who has stuck with me so far in the story! You're all wonderful!

            Adam let the cup of coffee warm his chilled hands as Ronan pulled back on to the road.

            “I don’t know why you won’t just let me buy you a damned cup of coffee,” Ronan grumbled over the sound of bagpipes playing softly over the radio. “It’s not like you’re selling your soul by letting me be nice to you.”

            “I don’t know why you keep insisting that you have to buy me coffee in the first place,” he retorted.

            The angel didn’t dignify that with a response loud enough for Adam to make out because he was on his deaf side, but he was pretty sure he’d heard the words ‘ _damned pride_ ’.

            Adam watched the streetlights pass out the window a little too quickly for Ronan to be driving the limit. He didn’t comment on his reckless driving.

            In fact, he didn’t say anything at all until Ronan slowed the car to a stop outside of a dingy brick building on the outskirts of Henrietta. Once the ignition was switched off Adam looked at the surrounding area.

            It was a bad part of town. He’d heard as much from Blue and the locals that brought their vehicles into the garage. Adam looked at the brick building and the obvious disrepair of the vacant pizza shop across the street. “Did you bring me here to murder me?” He finally asked.

             Ronan scoffed and rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle he hadn't caught a glimpse of his brain in the process. "Pfft, no. Parrish, if I wanted to kill you I'd do it in an alley behind a five-star restaurant. I have class."

            “How reassuring,” he said dryly.

            “This is my apartment building.” He didn’t wait to see if Adam was following him as he got out of the car.

            Adam stayed put. He wasn’t entirely sure he felt safe in this crummy part of town. But, he’d decided earlier to trust Ronan to keep him safe. He did trust him. He trusted him with his well-being, but maybe not as much with his heart.

            His heart was a fragile thing. It’d been battered and bruised his entire life. It had been healed enough to allow Ronan in the first time, only to have it hurt when Ronan had been with Kavinsky. His heart was healing once more. He _wanted_ to trust Ronan with it but he was too timid to hand it over to him fully. 

            He trusted Ronan enough to keep him safe from Kavinsky.

            He supposed if he could trust him enough to keep him safe from a literal demon, he could trust him enough to keep him safe from any muggers, drug addicts, and thieves that dwelled in this part of town.

            Adam got out of the car and shut the door, heading after Ronan.

            The stairwell had an interesting aroma of cat pee, marijuana, and mold. Ronan didn’t seem to notice the stench, which was impressive because he probably had a heightened sense of smell because he was an angel.

            Ronan fought with the lock, muttering the f-word under his breath. “Come on you stupid bastard,” he cussed again before delivering a firm kick to the door.

            It gave way with a shriek of protest.

            He gave Adam a smirk and gestured for him to step in.

            Adam entered the apartment and looked around. The place was a mess. There was stuff thrown haphazardly around the small apartment from clothes,  shredded pieces of newspaper, and a bunch of odds and ends that didn’t really make sense to him.

            “Do you really live here?” He asked stepping over a discarded t-shirt.

            “Yeah.”

            “I wouldn’t expect an angel to live this way,” he admitted.

            Ronan shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the back of the couch. “Don’t judge.”

            “I won’t.”

            Adam had spent his entire life being judged because of his financial status, the bruises that had stained his skin, and the fact that he was from the poorest trailer park in his hometown. Who was he to judged Ronan because his apartment was a mess?

            He wandered through the apartment and stumbled over something.

            It was a brick.

            Adam picked up the brick lying in the middle of the floor. One end of it was charred, but the entire thing threatened to crumble with age.

            Out of the corner of his eye, something black swooped down.

            He jumped, dropping the brick. His eyes darted around the room in an attempt to find the bat that had just fluttered around his head. “What the hell?!”

            “Be careful, Parrish,” Ronan reprimanded, “that brick is from the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory.”

            “There’s a _bat_ in here, Ronan!”

            The corner of Ronan’s lips turned up in an amused smirk. A black bird moved from behind his shaved head to perch on his right shoulder. It eyed Adam uncertainly. “Don’t be disrespectful. She’s a raven.”

            “Pardon me for not spotting the difference as she swooped over my head,” he replied, his tone sardonic. “Why do you have a raven?”

            “I found her as a baby and raised her by hand. Her name is Chainsaw.”

            “Chainsaw?”

            Ronan shrugged, the bird on his shoulder fluffed her wings indignantly at being jostled and settled back down. "Alcohol may have had a part in naming her." 

            “Why am I not surprised?”

            Adam looked at the rest of the stuff Ronan had lying around his small, cluttered apartment. “What is with all of this stuff?” He asked as he inspected a model car on the bookshelf. “You have a brick from the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory?” The factory had burned to the ground in 1911. Over one hundred men, women, and children had been killed. “ _Why_?”

            Something dark flashed behind Ronan’s eyes for just a moment. It was so fleeting Adam almost thought he’d imagined it. “I was in the city when it happened,” he said quietly. “It had been...terrible.”

            Adam had heard in lectures, saw photos of the damage, and read about the fire from a history project his freshman year. He couldn’t imagine seeing it in person. He shuddered slightly and moved on.

            “What about this?” He asked, picking up a bullet casing.

            “World War One,” Ronan replied.

            “This?”

            “It belonged to a friend in the fifties.”

            “This?”

            "An ax handle from a cabin I built in the late 1800's." 

            They went on like that for almost an hour. Adam would pick out a piece of Ronan’s history and Ronan would tell him about it.

            What appeared like useless junk to the naked eye, was really small pieces of Ronan’s past. They were items he coveted and held on to in order to remind himself of who he was, where he had come from, and what he’d done.

            “What happened between you and Kavinsky?” He finally asked.

            “If what he said was true,” Ronan said, “you know some of what happened. If he really put those dreams in your head you know the worst of it.”

            “He did, but I don’t trust him. Tell me more.”

            “We knew each other for years. When my brothers found out I was having an affair with a Nephilim, they came to Earth to punish me. They cut my wings off and killed Kavinsky. They sent him to Hell. They cast me out of Heaven and I lived under the impression that I was a mortal for decades. Kavinsky came back in the seventies. I was lost, still trying to figure out who I was without my identity as an angel. Together we did some bad stuff. I wasn’t a good person. My brother Declan found us and banished him back to Hell.”

            Adam turned the smooth casing of the bullet over in his hands while he listened to Ronan talk. He frowned but didn't speak right away. "We know what he's really doing back here. He told us as much at the church. My question is…" He paused and set the bullet down. He looked at Ronan, studying the uncomfortable look on his face. "What is he to you now?" 

            Ronan placed one hand on his chest like he was feeling his own heartbeat. "Things between us are dead. I can't be what Kavinsky wants me to be. He wants me to be who I was before I got my wings back. He wants me to be the way I was when I was Fallen." 

            Adam let those words sink in.

            Ronan grimaced and braced his palm to his chest even further. “Fuck,” he breathed.

            “He doesn’t like me because of who I am to you,” Adam summarized.

            The angel slowly lowered his hand, nodding.

            Adam put the brass casing down and moved closer so he was standing right in front of Ronan. “He wants you to feel the way about him that you feel about me.”

            Ronan said nothing. He stared down at Adam, his eyes an intricate mosaic of emotion.

            His silence was all of the confirmation that Adam needed.  

            He was so close to him that all it would take is just a simple lean forward to close the distance between them and press their lips together.

            Most of Adam wanted to close that distance so badly that it hurt.

            That small bruised part of his heart wasn't quite ready yet. 

            Just past Ronan’s shoulder, Adam spotted a picture hanging up on the refrigerator. He felt himself drawn to it. His heart seemed to pound louder in his ears the longer he looked at it. Wordlessly, he stepped past Ronan and followed his intuition toward the photograph.

            Ronan followed him, saying nothing but letting Adam explore his apartment on his own.

            Adam stopped in front of the picture, his fingertips touched the faded image delicately. He was half-afraid he’d ruin it if he pressed too hard.

            The photo featured Ronan with another young man. The two of them sat on the jungle floor, leaning up against a tree. Ronan had a fat cigar hanging out of his mouth, both of them wore identical smirks.

            “That was Billy Stark,” Ronan said from behind Adam.

            _Billy Stark._

            “I remember him,” Adam said. “I...I remember _being_ him.” Maybe not explicitly, but Adam remembered vivid dreams of running through the Vietnamese jungle, a pack that weighed half as much as he did on his shoulders, a rifle in his hands. Dreams of his past lives.

            “I wondered if you would make the connection.”

            Adam blinked and turned around to look at Ronan. “You knew?”

            “I’ve known since the first time I saw you working at the store that you were an Old Soul. I can sense it...kind of like you can sense my energy. I thought I sensed something familiar about you when we first met.”

            "Tell me about him," Adam said suddenly. His eyes fixed on the LED clock on the oven. It was harder to scry in such a small light. He stared at the numbers until they blurred and he felt himself fall into a meditative state. 

            He focused on Ronan’s voice, allowed his words to pull him in. Suddenly, he wasn’t listening to Ronan talk to him about who Billy Stark used to be. Instead, he _was_ Billy Stark.

 

* * *

 

            _He could feel the sticky humidity of the jungle against his grimy skin. His feet ached from his too-worn boots. He reached out and plucked a cigar from between Ronan’s lips and took a long, slow drag from it._

_The smoke burned his lungs in a familiar way that was mildly uncomfortable. It tasted like the stolen cigars Billy had taken from his dad’s desk drawer to smoke with Edgar Holt and Daniel Williamson down by the train tracks._

_The birds cawed overhead in the canopy, shrill and demanding attention._

_In the distance, the air was yellowed with the hazy from the intentionally set jungle fire. A village was burning somewhere after people had been evicted from their homes._

_War, Billy thought, was a very fucked up thing._

_"Give that back, short-shit!" Ronan barked at him, his voice held no acidity. He took the cigar and stubbed it out on a nearby tree before tucking what was left of it behind his ear. "After this one, I don't have any left. The rest of them got fucking ruined when we had to wade across that river."_

_“That’s shit.”_

_“Yeah, that’s shit.”_

_They trudged through the jungle, surrounded by their comrades. They were all just as tired, dirty, and sweaty as the next._

_“Are you going to ever tell me how you got those scars?” Billy asked, nodding to Ronan’s back._

_“Not right now. Maybe another time.”_

_Billy accepted that answer with a nod. Ronan was so mysterious and different. He’d never met anyone like him before._

_Nobody had ever made Billy feel the way Ronan did either. It was puzzling, a little terrifying, and mostly confusing. The church would have called Billy’s feelings sinful. His mama would have prayed for his soul if she knew and his dad would have probably tried to beat those thoughts from his head._

_Nobody knew but Billy. Not even Ronan._

_But, judging by the way Ronan kept looking at him, Billy was pretty sure Ronan had similar feelings towards him. The two of them never talked about it. They never would. It was too dangerous, too wrong._

_So, Billy just kept trudging through the soggy, humid jungle, placing one worn out boot in front of the other._

_It was quiet, peaceful. Nobody expected the enemy to fire upon them._

_Then again, nobody ever expected to be ambushed._

_Nobody ever expected to get a bullet to the chest._

_Yet, all Billy could do was stare at the crimson rosette blooming across his chest seconds before the pain ripped through him,_

_“Billy!” Ronan exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing the young man as his knees gave out. His voice sounded like a ringing in Billy’s ears. “Billy, hey! Hey! You’re going to be okay, okay? Can you hear me? You’re going to be okay!”_

_Billy couldn’t talk, because his mouth was filling up with blood. It was hot, salty, and tasted like copper. He was choking on it. His fingers scrabbled for purchase on the front of Ronan’s uniform. He tried to hold on, but his hands wouldn’t work._

_Ronan was still talking to him, his voice desperate and his eyes filling with tears._

_That face faded away as Billy choked on his last bloody breath._

 

* * *

 

            “Adam?” Ronan’s voice was loud now, firm. His hand on Adam’s shoulder was warm, familiar, and steady.

            Adam allowed Ronan to pull him back. He’d gone deep into his subconscious, too deep. It was a wonder that he was able to find his way back to his physical body at all.

            He blinked and looked at Ronan once he felt fully present in his own skin. “You’re right,” he finally said. “It was me. Billy Stark was me in a past life. You held me while I died.”

            Talking of the memory seemed to pain Ronan. He grimaced but nodded. 

            “We had something special back then too.”

            That sentence seemed to take Ronan by surprise. His eyes widened slightly at that statement. "Yeah," he finally said, "we did." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from the song 'Something New' by The Score.


	26. When the Wicked Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another late update! I had to drive five hours today and unsuccessfully break into my house in the rain to bring you this update (*insert crying with laughter emoji here*)! I really liked writing this chapter a lot!
> 
> I'd like to give a shout out to Uchi for leaving sweet comments on my updates! You're wonderful!

            Typically, Adam was pretty good about keeping his composure. The slip-up earlier in the week when his anxiety had gotten the best of him had been the first time it had ever been that bad. In his defense, it had been brought on by elements out of his control.

            Unlike, this ten page thesis that he didn’t have time or energy to do because of work, classes, and the supernatural bullshit that seemed to be plaguing his life. His fingers were flying over the keyboard at lightspeed, the desk next to him was piled high with library books, the coffee that remained in the bottom of his cup had gone cold two hours ago.

            He was running on caffeine and pure desperation.

            The library was empty at this hour of the night. Typically, it closed at eleven but because it was nearing the end of term and despairing students were cramming for finals and completing last minute assignments, it was staying open for twenty-four hours for the week.

            It was kind of eerie, being alone with nothing but thousands of books for company and listening to the soft murmur of sleeping computers.

            Adam reached over to the stack of his books and rifled through them. He counted them once, twice, and a third time just to make sure he was counting them right. \

            “Damn,” he swore. He was one reference short for his medical history paper and he needed to wander back into the archives to find another.

            He got up, taking his room-temperature coffee with him.

            The student working the front desk of the library was too engrossed in her erotic vampire fantasy book to pay him much attention as he passed. Her chipped red nail polished matched the blood on the fangs that decorated the front cover.

            Seeing the book gave Adam thoughts about Henry that made him wish he could soak his brain in bleach for a day or two.

            The library at the college was massive. It was seven stories high, packed full of thousands and thousands of books. It wasn't hard finding a source for the material, the library definitely had it. It was just a matter of locating what he needed in among the multitude of literature.

            Adam made his way to the third floor, which sat abandoned. He moved through the rows of books; some of them were well over one hundred years old, the others were brand new.

            He trailed his long fingers over the spines, feeling each of them beneath his fingertips.

            There was something surreal about being in the library so late at night. It felt like it was a dream like it was all in his imagination.

            The air around him seemed to grow colder, thicker, and darker. It felt like there was a black cloud of despair rolling in, blocking out the energy of the world around it.

            Adam jerked to a stop, the hair on his arms standing up. He knew Kavinsky’s energy when he felt it. It was unmistakable.

            Kavinsky was here. In the library.

            He turned around and started heading back the way he’d come. He was hoping to get out of there without the demon finding him.

            Kavinsky didn’t have a reason to come to the library on campus. Unless he was looking for Adam...or the Book of the Damned. But, he had a feeling it was the former rather than the latter.

            The library was too obvious of a hiding spot for a book that was supposed to be hidden from Heaven and Hell.

            He ignored the way his heart was beating against his breastbone. He ignored the way his hands started to sweat. He just needed to calmly and quickly exit the library without being found. He could do that, he told himself as he rounded a stack of books and came to face-to-face the demon himself.

            Kavinsky’s mouth twisted into a dangerous smile and he started walking toward Adam. Each step was a threat that didn’t do Adam’s rapidly beating heart any favors.

            The psychic backpedaled hastily. He didn’t get very far. His back was pressed against a wall covered with inspirational posters about reading. He looked to the left, his exit was blocked by a cart of books that needed reshelving. To the right was another bookshelf.

            He swallowed and looked at the demon. He opened his mouth to ask what Kavinsky wanted but shut it immediately when he saw the gun inches from his face.

            “It’s time for us to talk,” Kavinsky said. “ _Without_ our feathered friend getting involved and if you so much as think about praying to him...well, let’s just say that he can’t start someone’s heart once it has a bullet through it.”

            Having a gun pointed in his face was terrifying, but also not as scary as he thought it would have been. It almost didn’t seem real, like he was watching it happen to someone else, but he knew the psychopath holding it wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. All it would take was one act of defiance and Adam’s life could be over forever.

            Still, he wasn’t stupid. He knew better than to argue with an idiot holding a gun.

            So, he didn’t say anything. He just went in the direction Kavinsky motioned with the muzzle of the gun.

            Adam tried not to flinch when he felt the hard press of the muzzle against his spine while Kavinsky walked behind him. The coldness of the steel seemed to freeze him through his second-hand sweater.

            When they passed the front desk, the girl sitting behind it didn’t look up from her novel. Adam wished she would have. Maybe then she could have called security or _something_. Instead, she popped her gum and turned the page.

            The white Mitsubishi Eclipse was parked haphazardly at the curb, one tire up on the sidewalk. The driver’s side door was open, a moth flitted around the dome light, and the speakers thrummed with the heavy sound of bass.

            The psychic said nothing as he was directed to sit in the passenger seat. He had to push an empty liquor bottle and an empty pack of cigarettes onto the floor in order to sit down.

            The demon slid behind the wheel. He shook out a thin line of powder across the back of his hand and pressed the skin to his nose in order to snort it.

            Adam glared at him in disgust. He wondered how much cocaine would impair Kavinsky’s ability to shoot him and how much would have an impact on his driving.

            Kavinsky seemed to know what Adam was thinking. He wiped the powder residue from under his nose and put the car in drive. One hand pointed the gun at Adam and the other remained on the wheel. “It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than one line of coke to fuck me up bad enough so I can’t drive or shoot you from this close. Being a demon is good for something, after all.”

            Adam clenched his teeth together hard enough his jaw hurt.

            The demon didn’t say anything after that. He just pushed the car towards the upper limits of its speedometer.

            The silence between them seemed endless and extremely uncomfortable. The tension was one hundred times more so.

            Finally, Adam mustered up the courage to ask, “what do you want with me?”

            “I was serious about wanting to talk to you,” the Demon replied. “I want to get to know more about the little human that Ronan is so infatuated with. How did you guys meet?”

            Adam stared at him, unable to keep the befuddled expression off of his face. Was he serious? Did he really put a gun in his face just to make small talk? What the hell was wrong with him? “Tell me you’re joking right now,” he challenged.

            The demon’s finger twitched toward the trigger and Adam was suddenly very aware that Kavinsky was _not_ joking.

            “Ronan bought me a coffee without my permission one night,” he replied quickly. “We didn’t get along at first.”

            “I bet it hurt your trailer park pride.” Kavinsky’s voice oozed faux sympathy.

            That comment burned Adam down to his bones, but he wasn’t foolish enough to retaliate while there was a gun on his face. So, he didn’t say anything. He grew up with enough white-trash slurs that he should have been desensitized to them.

            “I saw your face that night Ronan had grabbed you in the park,” Kavinsky continued, “did your daddy beat you?”

            Adam felt his face turn red. He swallowed his anger and stared straight ahead out of the windshield. He wasn’t dignifying that with a response.

            But, that finger twitched toward the trigger again.

            "Yes," he bit out. It came out sounding more like a snarl than a word. "I doubt that you came here to ask me about my shitty childhood. So why am I really here?"

            Kavinsky barked out a laugh. It was dry and raspy. It sounded like smoke. “You should know the truth, shouldn’t you?”

            “You’re a demon. Why should I believe anything that you say?”

            “I’ve always been truthful to you. Even in your dreams. Has Ronan even told you the truth yet?”

            “He has,” Adam said. “He told me that he’s an angel and you’re a demon. You were killed for being in love with him.”

            “He didn’t lie to you, but it’s a half-truth.”

            Adam was inclined to ignore him. He didn’t want to believe that Ronan had been hiding part of the truth from him. He stared at Kavinsky, looking for any hint of deceit in his face. He found nothing but an apathetic look with a wicked smirk.

            “I was young when I found Ronan injured on the side of the road. He’d gotten thrown off of his horse and had a broken leg. I picked him up off of the side of the road and took him back to my house and nursed him back to health. We fell in love and ran away together. Then, we stayed on our own little plot of land, living our lives.”

            “How is that a half-truth?” Adam finally asked, feeling obligated to go to Ronan’s defense.

            “That bastard never told me he was an angel. He never told me I was a Nephilim and I never knew until Michael was shoving his flaming sword through the middle of my fucking chest. He never told me it was against the laws of Heaven for the two of us to be in love. He loved me regardless of the consequences and he knew that they were death.”

            Adam’s glare turned poisonous. He hated Kavinsky for making Ronan out to be the villain. It wasn’t Ronan’s fault that he’d fallen in love with the ex-Nephilim. Yes, him hiding the truth from Kavinsky was wrong, but it was in the past. There was nothing that could be done about it now. Ronan had learned from his mistakes. He was being honest now. “I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.”

            “What’s that?” The demon asked, clearly amused by Adam’s tone.

            "You're not going to turn me against him. He's not who he used to be and the sooner you get that through your empty skull, the better off you'll be." He hated Kavinsky. He hated the shiny gun in his pale hands and the smug look on his face.

            “I’m the one with the empty skull? _Hah_! If you’re too stupid to heed the dreams as a warning, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

            Adam’s tone was icy, “I’ll take my chances.”

            “I want the Book of the Damned or you and your friends will start dying. Capisce?”

            He glared at him as he pulled off to the side of the road.

            “Get the fuck out of my car.”

            Adam climbed out of the car and stood in the open door. His rage was boiling beneath his skin, burning him alive. He didn’t even realize he had spit at Kavinsky until the demon was wiping it off of his face. “Go to Hell!”

            Kavinsky laughed, his shoulders shaking, his teeth sharp and egregious. The whole concept was entertaining to him. He could have shot Adam right then and there, leaving his body on the side of the road to rot and be picked apart by the nocturnal scavengers. Instead, he took a swig from another liquor bottle that had been in the backseat. He looked at Adam and shouted,  “tick tock, psychic-boy!”

            Adam slammed the door and watched as the car squealed back on the pavement and sped out of sight.

            He was just a few miles from campus, but he reached for his phone to give Gansey a call to see if he could get a ride. He sighed in defeat when he came back empty-handed, his phone forgotten on the desk he’d occupied in the library.

            “I hate that demon,” he muttered as he started to trudge back toward Aglionby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from 'Wicked' by Dorothy (I just really love her so much.)


	27. We Are Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! We're getting somewhere, finally! This chapter doesn't seem like much, but I promise that things are going to be escalating very quickly from here on out. Buckle up and enjoy the ride!

            It had been two nights since Kavinsky had cornered him in the library. Adam had spent most of that time wracking his brain trying to figure out where in town a book capable of ending the world would be. When he was changing the spark plugs in a customer's Chevy pickup, he contemplated the likelihood that the Book of the Damned being in the decrepit pizza shop by Ronan's apartment.

            It wasn’t likely.

            While he stocked shelves and broke down boxes at the store he wondered if the book was somewhere that was easily accessible.

            Considering the world was still intact, he decided that wasn’t likely either.

            So, not sure where to start, he decided that the campus library was the best place to start...even if he doubted the book wasn’t there.

            He spent hours combing the shelves. He started on the seventh floor and worked his way down. By the time he stopped on the first floor near the astronomy section, the only book he found that seemed to give off any kind of palpable energy was a battered, ancient copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ that seemed to have a spirit attached to it.

            Adam looked at the book and frowned. Somehow, he doubted the book featuring Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy wasn’t what Kavinsky had in mind. He put the book on a cart to be reshelved.

            Honestly, he doubted Kavinsky had ever even touched a copy of _Pride and Prejudice._

            Adam felt the beginnings of a tension headache creeping up the back of his neck. He didn’t know where to look next for the book. He needed to come up with a plan.

            Whenever he thought about telling Kavinsky to go fuck himself, he remembered the way Gansey’s face had turned purple and he’d choked on nothing at all because of the demon’s telekinetic powers.

            He kept seeing that sickening smirk on the demon’s face and hearing his snide, _“tick tock”_.

            He didn’t want anything to happen to his friends. He’d never live with himself if anything ever happened to Gansey or, god forbid, Blue.

            He supposed that unless he came up with something better, he’d have to scour every inch of land between the ley lines.

            Adam rubbed the back of his neck and set the book on a cart to be reshelved and headed outside. He supposed he could try to come up with a good place to start while he studied for his organic chemistry test.

            The leaves had turned colors with the autumn season. Most of them had fallen in the brisk October winds and crunched underfoot as he headed across campus to his dormitory.

            He liked this time of year. He liked the way the leaves smelled baking under the warm sun accompanied by the scent of oncoming winter.

            He knew he was going to have to find a way to get back and forth to work once it snowed, but he didn’t let himself dwell on that for long. He just wanted to enjoy the feeling of the sun on his face. Because, for the first time in what felt like ages, he let himself just...relax. He didn’t let his mind think about work, school, or Kavinsky. He let himself have just these few precious minutes of tranquility.

            Once he reached his dorm, he let his mind shift into a different focus. He thought about the notes he had to go over, the formulas he had to memorize, and the material he needed to review before his taste later in the day.

            He pushed the door open and blinked when he saw his room.

            Gansey was stretched out in his desk chair, his eyes skimming across the lines of the hand-written journal he’d spent countless hours filling in the blank pages.

            Blue and Henry were sprawled across Adam’s bed.

            The fact that Henry was a vampire didn’t seem to deter her. She had her brightly-clad legs draped over his, her back against the wall.

            Henry's spiked hair was messed up from where it had been pressed against Adam's pillow. He flashed his teeth at the newcomer with a friendly smile.

            Blue jabbed Henry in the ribs with a bony finger, “slide over so Adam can fit.”

            Adam hesitated next to his bed. He didn’t know how comfortable he felt sprawling in bed with a _vampire_.

            Henry had never given him a reason not to trust him. Hell, Adam had ridden in the passenger seat of his over-the-top car and he’d never felt threatened.

            He inhaled softly and then made himself fit among the pile of bodies in his bed. “I should be studying,” he said.

            “You’re going to study yourself to death,” Blue told him.

            “I have to get into med school somehow.”

            “Meh, it can wait a few minutes.”

            This close to Blue and Henry it was easy to smell hair gel along with the heavy scent of incense from Fox Way. He always associated that smell with home. Even if he hadn't grown up there, it was familiar and comforting.

            For a long time, nobody said anything. Even after Noah appeared, perched on Adam’s desk, they remained quiet. Nobody needed to say anything. They simply basked in their closeness. It was nice, knowing that no matter what shit the universe threw at them, they had each other.

            Blue broke the silence eventually. “How long have you and Ronan been seeing each other?”

            Adam blinked and looked at her. “We aren’t anything official,” he replied. “Honestly, I don’t even really know what we are.”

            She simply nodded in understanding.

            Adam closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, just half-a-foot beneath the red-brown smear of Ronan’s protection sigils.

            “You look tired,” she said. One of her cool fingertips brushed the skin beneath his left eye.

            “I am. I’ve got school, work, and this entire angels, demons, and Book of the Damned thing stressing me out. It’s kind of hard to sleep when you take all of that into account. I looked in the library and couldn’t find anything.”

            “Maybe somebody checked it out,” Noah added from his position on the desk. His mouth under his shadowed cheek quirked upward. “I bet it’s in high demand.”

            Blue sat up and twisted to look at Adam. She gave him a look of incredulity. “You’re not seriously going to give him what he wants, right?” She must have seen the look on his face because she shook her head, “ _Adam_!”

            He remembered the cold press of the gun’s muzzle against his back and frowned at his knuckles, battered from working in countless engine compartments. “He made a pretty convincing argument when he pressed a gun to my spine.”

            His words were met with startled silence before all of them made their opinion on that bit of information known.

            “ _Adam_!”

            “Christ!”

            “Are you fucking serious?”

            “I hope you punched him in the face.”

            He frowned at their reactions. “Yeah, trust me, it wasn’t in my top ten ‘life moments’ either.”

            “How did he even find you in order to threaten you with a gun?” Gansey asked, his eyes wide. He held his place in the journal with his thumb in a familiar gesture.

            "I was working on my paper the other night and he showed up. He must have felt my energy or something because I didn't ask for him to find--"

            _Bang! Bang!_

            They all jumped just a little at the loud thud on the door.

            Gansey got up from the chair and set his journal down. When he opened the door, the concerned crease between his eyebrows smoothed away and he smiled. “Ronan,” he said, “come in.”

            Ronan saw the group all piled on Adam’s bed and wasted no time dropping onto Gansey’s mess, unmade bed and sprawling out. “What’s going on, shitheads?”

            “Adam wants to give Kavinsky the Book of the Damned,” Blue piped up.

            Ronan’s piercing gaze flicked to Adam. The corner of his smirk drooped down at that. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea. You know he wants to bring Hell to Earth, right? That would cause a war between angels and demons that would wipe out humanity. My dad would not be happy to lose his favorite creation.”

            Henry made a face. “It sounds weird when you say it like that.”

            Adam needed to talk to Ronan privately. “We’ll worry about the book when we find it. Ronan, can I talk to you for a minute?

            Once the door was shut, Adam turned to Ronan. “I ran into Kavinsky the other night.”

            Judging by the tension in his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw, it wasn’t the information Ronan had been hoping for. “And?”

            Adam gave Ronan a quick rundown of what had happened. When he finished he looked the angel in the face. “He said that you fell in love with him knowing that he was a Nephilim and that you knew the consequences.”

            The didn’t look away from him. “I did.”

            “He said that he used to be a Nephilim and that wasn’t allowed because they’re the spawn of an angel and a human. Does that mean what’s going on between us, whatever this is, is forbidden too?”

            Ronan didn’t answer verbally. He didn’t have to. Adam could tell by the tightness around his eyes, his guarded expression, and the newly tightened tension in his shoulders.

            It hurt.

            “How can you do that?” Adam demanded. “How can you love me and let me love you back when you know what will happen? Do you want me to be like him?”

            “No,” Ronan said quickly. He stepped closer to Adam. He smelled of leather and cologne. “I won’t let what happened to you, happen to him. I will make sure that it _never_ happens.”

            “How?”

            He blinked and looked at him.

            “How can you promise me they won’t come for me?”

            “Because,” Ronan said quietly, “we’re going to find the Book of the Damned, kill Kavinsky once and for all, and the angels won’t know anything. Let’s take care of Kavinsky and then worry about the angels.”

            Adam wanted to be upset. He wanted to be angry at Ronan for putting him in this complicated situation. But, Ronan seemed certain that he could make it work. So, Adam decided to put his stubborn pride aside and trust him. “Okay,” he said. “I need you to understand that I’m trusting you to keep Gansey, Blue, and me safe.”

            Ronan nodded. Something in his expression told Adam that he was fully prepared to put his own life on the line in order to save theirs. “I won’t let you down.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from 'Young Volcanoes' by Fall Out Boy


	28. Burn My Lungs and Curse My Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys like this chapter and all of my hard works pays off! This is the longest Holy Hell chapter so far and it took me HOURS to write! It's kind of dark and features our favorite short-story character and the Henrietta cryptid!

_He’d been in enough dream places to know when he was dreaming. Adam had also had enough realistic dreams lately to recognize when this particular place was important and very real. However, he didn’t recognize it from his past. He had a feeling it was a place he’d been seeing in the future._

_Creepy was the first word that came to mind. Ominous was the second._

_The sprawling mansion had most likely been a place of elegance, one that the wealthiest men and women in Virginia flocked to in their best, most expensive outfits to talk politics and schmooze with each other over expensive drinks._

_At one point, the lawn had probably been well-manicured, dotted with croquet balls, and lined with pristine hedges. It was easy to imagine partygoers enjoying the sun while their children got grass stains on their impeccable clothes._

_It certainly didn’t look like that. At least, not in his dreams._

_The lawn was overgrown with weeds, the hedges had all overgrown, and tentacles of unchecked ivy grew up the filthy brick._

 

_The look of the house wasn’t what was disturbing to him. No, he could handle abandoned buildings and dejected lawns. The **energy** it emitted was enough to make the hair stand up on his arms and make his gut clench while his mind screamed **no, no, no**! _

_The only way Adam could describe it was pure **evil**._

_It made the blackness of Kavinsky’s aura seem like child’s play._

_Adam took one last look at the outside of the house. He wasn’t thrilled about venturing inside, even if he knew he had to._

_Because it was a dream, he just ended up inside the house. He hadn’t had to go through a door or a broken window to end up in the foyer._

_Like the outside of the house, the inside was in fairly sad shape. Dust bunnies skittered silently across the floor when the wind blew, furniture was covered in filthy white sheets, long forgotten, and bird shit (undoubtedly from the hole in the ceiling) smattered the floor._

_He knew he was here for a reason. As reluctant as he was to explore this horror-movie mansion, he knew he had to. There was something deep within him that told him he’d find some sort of answers here._

_So, he went to the stairs and headed up._

_If he had thought the first floor and the creaking stairs were the epitome of ‘creepy’, the second floor set the bar even higher._

_It was home to several bedrooms. Some of them had the beds still made, they were vacant of any personal belongings. It was obvious that they were supposed to be guest bedrooms, like the one Adam had stayed in when he’d gone home with Gansey one weekend._

_A few of them, however, had obviously been lived in._

_The first bedroom had what would have once been a beautiful dresser in one corner. It was obvious that the weather, the termites, and vandals had gotten to it. On top was a jewelry box, bent and broken. Its contents were long gone._

_The second room had dolls. Really, **really** creepy dolls. They sat on a shelf next to the window, their silken outfits faded by sunlight, coated in dust. Some of their faces were cracked and chipped from abuse. _

_The third room, however, was the most terrifying of all._

_When Adam pushed the door open he found an empty crib. One of its legs had broken off years ago and it sat at a slightly jilted angle. A dusty mobile hovered overhead. A teddy bear laid inside, one eye missing and its fur moth-eaten and worn thin._

_He didn’t stay to investigate further. He decided that maybe it was the best time for him to be lurking around sinister dream houses._

_He headed for the stairs. He swore he heard some ominous creaking and groaning out of his right ear. He stopped and listened. When he didn’t hear it over the sound of his own pulse, he decided it was most likely just the protests of the foundation of the old house._

_Then, a closet door open and almost hit him in the face._

_“What the hell?!” He demanded, rubbing his shoulder and stepping around the door._

_He didn’t know what to expect, ghosts, a demon, or maybe nothing at all._

_He certainly didn’t expect to see a small girl in a ragged sweater and beanie, with her blonde hair sticking out from beneath the cap._

_No, it wasn’t a girl._

_Well, it was...but she was something else._

_At first what Adam had thought had been a pair of very shaggy, ratty leggings was actually a set of legs covered in thick, wiry fur. At the very end of those legs, were two very real-looking hooves._

_It was a dream, he supposed, so anything was possible._

_“Have you seen an old book somewhere?” He asked. His voice sounded loud in the empty house._

_Her grey eyes widened and she jerked away way from her, her hooves clattering against the wooden floor in her attempt to get away from Adam. “No!” She exclaimed, her voice high-pitched and terrified. “No, no, no! You can’t open the bad book! It hadn’t been opened in a long time. It’s bad!”_

_Adam knew he was on the right track, then. He held up his hands in a ‘calm down’ gesture and made sure to keep his tone low and soft as he spoke. “Okay...why is it bad? Can you tell me?”_

_“Bad things happened! Bad things!”_

_“You know where it is, don’t you?”_

_Her grey eyes were wide as she nodded. “Yes. I’m not getting it for you. When people touch the bad book they die!”_

_Adam felt bad for her. She was genuinely terrified and that scared him too, but he needed to know where the book was. “It’s okay,” he promised firmly, but softly. “I’m not going to make you touch the book. I’m not going to make you find it.” He took a slow breath in, building up his own courage. “If you can’t take me to it, can you at least tell me where it is?”_

_She seemed to consider it for a moment or two before she headed for the stairs and thundered down them. When she reached the landing she led him down a narrow hallway and pointed to a door. “It’s down **there**.” _

_He nodded and reached for the knob, but it twisted and the door opened before his hand could make contact with its tarnished brass handle._

_The hair on his arms stood up._

_This was too weird, too odd._

_Adam turned and looked at the orphaned girl, who was as far away from the door as she could get in the narrow hallway. Her eyes shone like she was close to tears. He just gave her a small half-hearted attempt at a reassuring smile and then headed down the stairs._

_When he reached the bottom of the stairs, it was like every horror movie he’d ever seen (and it wasn’t many) rolled into one._

_The cellar was a large open room, spanning the whole length of the massive house. At one end, the earth had opened up and created a cave, swallowing a portion of the house’s foundation whole. The darkness that Adam felt was strong enough to make his stomach clench. It was like it was a living entity, the misery pulsing from it was like a heartbeat._

_Between his worn-out sneakers and the mouth of the cave lay a dirt floor, hard packed from time and covered with bodies._

_Dead bodies._

_The corpses of men, women, and children of all ages littered the floor._

_It was so horrific that it knocked the breath out of his lungs._

_**This is just a dream** , he reminded himself as he stepped off of the last step and onto the floor. **Whatever happens here can't hurt me. It's a dream and I'll wake up in my bed in the dorms.**_

_He picked his way through the bodies and headed toward the gaping maw of earth that had swallowed part of the house. He grimaced as he stepped in a puddle of blood._

_**This is just a dream.**_

_“What happened here?” He called up to the girl. He could hear her standing at the top of the steps._

_She made a miserable sound followed by a pause so long that Adam didn’t think she was going to answer. “The book is bad. People died for it. All of them at once,” she finally said._

_It didn’t make sense that people ranging from young to old had died because of the Book of the Damned, but something had very obviously happened here that his psyche found important._

_He was almost to the end of the bodies. He tried not to look at them, but his eyes flicked over the corpse of a girl, no older than ten, her hair strewn across her small face. Her eyes were dead, distant, and glassed over. Her lips were stained red._

_Adam moved to step over her, trying not to step on any bodies._

_She moved so fast he wouldn’t have believed she’d even moved if it hadn’t been for the fact that her ice-cold hand was wrapped around his ankle._

 

* * *

 

            Adam shot up in bed, his heart trying to crawl out of his throat. He yanked back his covers, fully expecting to see a colorless hand gripping his ankle. Instead, he found a foot that had managed to halfway kick off his sock in his sleep.

            It was a bit disorienting, going from sleep to being awake so quickly. Not to mention the fact that his mind was in overdrive as he processed what this meant. 

            Even if he didn’t know how to get to that creepy old house, the knew where the Book of the Damned was.

            Adam was out of bed, pulling on a pair of already-worn jeans and a wrinkled sweater from his drawer.

            Gansey was already asleep and he felt kind of bad for waking the insomniac up, but he needed Gansey to drive so he could scribe and find the book.

            Gansey opened his eyes and grabbed his glasses. “Adam?” He asked with a tired frown. “Is everything okay? What’s--”

            “I know where to find the book,” he interrupted, “and I need you to drive us there.”

            It didn't take anymore cajoling to get him out of bed. Within five minutes the two of them were in the Pig ready to go...wherever that creepy house was. 

            “Where are we going?” Gansey asked from behind the wheel. His hair was messy from his pillow, but his eyes were bright behind his wireframes.

            Adam frowned. “I...I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I think I can scry to find out. Can I use your phone? I left mine on the nightstand.”

            He handed it over.

            Adam turned up the brightness and adjusted the settings so the screen would stay on. “When we get there wake me up. Don’t let me stay under too long,” he told Gansey. Once he saw his friend nod in affirmation, he let himself get absorbed by the brightness, let his soul leave his body to guide the way.

 

* * *

 

            “ _Adam_ ," Gansey's voice said, reverberating and familiar. " _Adam, come back._ ” j

            Adam could hear him, he hadn’t realized how far he’d wandered from his body. It scared him, knowing that it was so easy to get lost and to never come back. That was what had happened to Persephone, after all.

            The day he’d found her dead in her quaint, eccentric home was one of the worst of his life. If he didn’t find his way back, Gansey would have to deal with hauling his body out of the passenger seat of the Pig.

            “ _Adam_ ,” Gansey repeated.

            Adam followed the sound of his voice, thankful that his friend kept talking to him.

            Coming back from scrying was like breaking the surface of the water after diving into the deep end of the pool. It was cool and dark in his subconscious and when he breached the surface of the land of the living.

            He sucked in a deep breath, coming back to terms with having a physical body again. He flexed his fingers, wiggled his toes, and sat up in the seat. "Thanks," he managed to cough out. 

            Gansey nodded. He was leaning back in the seat, staring out at the crumbling brick mansion illuminated in the Camaro’s headlights. He was rubbing his lip with his thumb, the fingers of his other hand rubbing the steering wheel. “Do you know where we are?”

            “No.”

            "For one of my classes, we had to do a piece on the history of Henrietta. This town has no shortage of oddities. It has quite an intense and terrifying history. Do you want to know what happened here?" 

            Adam had a feeling it wasn’t anything good.

            “It was a mass suicide in the sixties.”

            Those words made goosebumps rise on his arms. He rubbed them away while Gansey produced his journal and started to thumb through it. 

            “It was a mass suicide,” he repeated. “Believed to be some sort of devil-worshipping ritual. Almost thirty men, women, and children were found dead.” He closed the worn book and looked at Adam. “You think it’s here.”

            “Coincidentally,” he replied, knowing full well the other didn’t believe in consequences.

            “ _Excelsior,_ ” Gansey replied without hesitating.

            As they approached the house Adam couldn't help but feel nauseous as they approached the house. The overbearing sense of malignancy that had overcome him in his sleep was just as prominent here. It was cold, dark, and exuded a sense of such pure evil that it was enough to make him want to say forget it all. 

            But he couldn't because he needed the book. 

            The furniture was still covered in dusty sheets, the floor was still splattered with bird droppings, and one section of the roof was still caved in.

            Upstairs the floorboards groaned. There were a few quiet, thudding steps that echoed through the vacant house.

            Adam smiled a little, despite the chilling eeriness at all. “It’s me!” He called out to the strange girl from his dreams, the one that wasn’t entirely human due to the fact that she had furry legs and hooves. “You can come down here. It’s me, Adam, and my friend, Gansey!”

            The house was quiet for several heartbeats.

            Gansey opened his mouth like he was going to ask who Adam was talking to, but he closed it as the soft clack of hooves on rickety stairs grew closer. His eyes widened and he blinked several times at the sight of the orphaned girl.

            Adam waited to see if he’d say anything about the _obviously_ not human girl.

            He just stared, a hand spread flat against his chest.

            “Are you okay?”

            “I keep being reminded time and time again magic is real,” he breathed softly.

            Adam realized that the girl probably didn't know who he was. He crouched down so he wasn't towering over her and offered her a tired, reassuring smile. "My name is Adam. I--" 

            “I know who you are,” She said, “you’re the one from the dream.”  
            He leaned back and studied her, a little surprised that she knew that she was a part of his dream. He wondered how that was possible, but decided not to dwell on it because he was learning each and every day that impossible was actually possible and wanted to kill him more often than not. “You already know why I’m here.”

            Her small face pinched and her almost too-big eyes started to water. “No! No! That book is bad! It’s bad!”

            “I know, but we need it. It’s very important.”

            “You’re going to die! You’re going to die!”

            Her words scared him, but he didn’t let it show on his face. He gave her a soft smile, “maybe. Can you do me a favor? I need you to be my sentry. Can you do that?”

            “I’m not going down there.”

            The girl brought the watch and sniffed it. She chewed on the excess part of the strap before making a face and putting her arm down.

            “Do you understand?”

            She nodded and tasted the strap again, just in case it didn’t taste bad enough the first time.

            Adam stood up and looked at Gansey. “I’ll be back.”

            There was a stubborn look in his eyes that he may have learned from rooming with Adam. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

            “Gansey--”

            “Adam, I’m not letting you go down there alone. If you think I drove you all the way out here so you could die in a filthy basement by yourself, you’re sorely mistaken.”

            He studied his friend, slightly blown away by Gansey's complete disregard for his own safety. On the outside, Richard Campbell-Gansey III looked like a pretentious, spoiled rich-kid. Adam knew better than that. Gansey was loyal, adventurous, and truly one of the best human beings Adam had ever met in his lifetime. “If things start to go bad, promise me you’ll get out.”

            “I’m not leaving you down there.” It was clear that the subject wasn’t up for negotiation, judging by the way Gansey grabbed the doorknob to the cellar and pulled the door open. He paused, his hand still gripping the knob as he sucked in a breath, clearly trying not to think about what had happened here years ago.

            Adam studied him for a moment longer before he copied his friend’s words from earlier, “ _Excelsior_.”

            The stairs groaned in protest from bearing weight for the first time in decades.

            When he reached the bottom, Adam was half afraid to lift his gaze from the dusty stairs. He almost expected for there to be bodies strewn across the hard-packed dirt floor, much like his dream. After all, almost everything about his dream had been accurate right up to this point.

            Thankfully, when he lifted his gaze there were no bodies. It was just a cellar filled with old furniture, mouse-eaten boxes, and long forgotten artifacts of the family that had lived and died here.

            That, and in the corner of the cellar, as far away from the stairs as could possibly be, was the gaping maw earth, where the ground had collapsed and taken part of the house with it.

            The evil energy pouring from that open wound in the ground was enough to make Adam have to hunch over at the bottom of the steps to keep himself from throwing up. He’d never felt something so terrible in his life. Kavinsky’s energy was black and evil, but it was child’s play compared to what he was feeling from the other end of the cellar.

            “Are you okay?” Gansey asked, clapping a hand on Adam’s back. He was staring at the hole in the ground, very obviously feeling _something_ from it even though he wasn’t psychic.

            Adam sucked in a few grounded breaths and stood up, “yes. I’m okay.”

            “It’s in there, isn’t it?”

            “Yeah.”

             Gansey turned on the battery-draining flashlight app on his cell phone and held it up so Adam could see where he was walking. 

            Each step closer to the cave felt like the pull of gravity was increasing. When he reached the entrance, he felt so heavy that he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to lift his legs and place one in front of the other. He half-expected to crumble like a discarded wad of paper under the heavy energy.

            Adam felt like he was suffocating in the malevolence of it all. Still, he sucked in a breath and climbed down into the hole anyway. He almost told Gansey that he didn’t have to come, but his friend was already following him down.

            The cavern wasn’t very big. It was less than a dozen yards deep and a fraction as wide.

            An irrational part of the psychic didn’t want to go in. He felt as though the ground would close up around them and trap them inside if they ventured any further in.

            He could hear dripping water out of his good ear. He figured it made sense. They were underground, after all, and there was no shortage of underground springs in Virginia.

            “Stay close,” he murmured to Gansey before he ventured in deeper.

            They were over halfway through the cavern when Gansey said, “Adam.”

            There was a tone of forced-calm and urgency in his voice that had Adam stopping to look at him.

            Gansey was shining his light toward the ceiling over their heads, lips parted slightly in awe and his complexion slightly pale from fear.

            Adam looked up too. Water dripped from the ceiling. A fat drop landed on his face. It was warm. He reached up and wiped it off with his hand. It wasn’t water at all, it was blood, crimson and hot.

            “The walls are bleeding.”

            Adam wiped the blood on his jeans and swallowed the fear creeping up his throat. “Yeah,” he managed to say. “Let’s just get the book and get out of here.”

            Gansey's light showed the blood flowing down the path before them, toward the end of the cavern. They had no choice to follow it. 

            At the end of the bloody trickle was a stone altar and sitting in the middle of it was a book.

            It could have passed as any other leather-bound book had the color of the leather not been so light, the texture too wrong, and the amount of pure evil energy pouring from it wasn’t so suffocating.

            Adam stood before the book and did his best to calm himself down. He thought it was fairly useless. His palms wouldn’t stop sweating and his heart wouldn’t stop double-timing in his chest.

            He didn’t want to open it. Yet, he did. In fact, he swore he could hear whispering in his deaf ear telling him to open it.

            His hands worked of their own accord. He reached out and opened the cover.

            He didn't have time to read a single word of the red lettering on the pages before an intense shockwave echoed through the cavern. The force of it was strong enough to throw Adam back several feet. He grunted as he careened into Gansey, knocking both of them over on the bloody floor. 

            “What the fresh hell was that?” Gansey asked. He seemed like he was in shock more than anything, considering his pleasantly surprised tone.

            “The book,” Adam replied. He made a face when he felt the warmth of the blood soaking into his sweatshirt. He was going to have to throw it out. There was no way he was going to be able to get that stain out.

            After the two of them staggered back to their feet, Adam went back to the book. His eyes skimmed the reddish-brown ink on the pages. _Blood_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully.

            He felt like he was going to be sick.

            Adam snapped the book closed and tucked it under his arm. The very cover of the book seemed to suck the warmth from his skin. When he held it, he couldn’t help but feel like he would never know happiness ever again. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I’m creeped out.”  

            Gansey didn’t argue. He led the way back to the Pig.

            Once they were inside of the orange monstrosity, Adam set the book on the floorboards between his feet. He didn’t want to touch it anymore. He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them up. He didn’t think he was cold from the chill of the crisp November night.

            They had made it halfway to campus when Adam sniffed the air. He frowned and looked at Gansey. “Does it smell like a...barn in here?”

            “Yes,” his friend replied, “and dead animal. Do you think it’s the book?”

            Adam had a sinking feeling it wasn’t the book at all. “No,” he replied. He twisted around and peered into the backseat. He wasn’t surprised to see the orphaned girl from the mansion in the backseat, eating an old pizza box.

            She blinked her big eyes and stared unapologetically back at him.

            “Orphan Girl!” He exclaimed, not knowing what else to call her. “What the hell are you doing in here?!”

            “ _What_?” Gansey asked, careening his neck to look in the rearview to see what his roommate was talking about.

            “That girl with the hooves!” Adam exclaimed, “she’s in here. We have to take her back!”

            “ _No_!” She exclaimed frantically. She stood up and gripped Adam’s seat, leaning in close. “No, please! No! I don’t want to go back to the scary house.”

            Adam sighed and turned back around. He rubbed his face in frustration. “What are we going to do with her? She can’t come back to Aglionby. I mean, look at her. _Smell_ her!”

            Gansey’s brow was furrowed thoughtfully. “I have an idea,” he said. He turned down a side street and started heading toward a different section of town.

            Adam watched as Ronan’s apartment building came into view a few minutes later. “Oh yes,” he replied sarcastically, “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to have a goat-girl living in his apartment.”

            “Do you have a better plan?”

            Adam’s silence confirmed to Gansey that he did not, in fact, have a better plan.

            Gansey took that as a victory and got out of the car. He flipped his seat ahead so Orphan Girl could get out.

            When Ronan answered the door, he took the news as graciously as Adam expected. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He asked, being jolted aside as the hooved-girl barreled past him and into his cluttered apartment. “I thought we kind of all agreed to lay low?”

            They had.

            After Adam and Ronan had their little chat in the hallway outside of the dorm, they’d returned and tried to come up with a plan to take down Kavinsky.  They’d agreed to search for the book on the down low and not actively seek out the demon or trouble in their attempts to find it.

            Adam just shrugged, because he knew that it wasn’t exactly as low as Ronan had wanted them to lay.

            “What part of any of this is ‘laying low’?” The angel growled.

            “I know, I know! Ronan, she was so scared. Hell, we didn’t even know she had snuck into the backseat of the Pig until we were halfway back to school!”

            Irritation sparked in Ronan’s blue eyes as he heard something break in the depths of his apartment. “This, for the record is _not_ laying low. She has fucking hooves, for my father's sake! She smells like a barn and she's-- _hey_!” Ronan snapped, looking back over his shoulder. His jaw twitched and he looked at Adam and Gansey again. “Parrish, she’s eating my fucking couch!”

            Adam peered past the angel to see that the girl, was in fact, eating the fabric from one of the couch’s armrests.

            “Listen,” Ronan snapped at her, “if you’re going to eat stupid shit, there’s an entire recycling bin the kitchen. Have at it.”

            Orphan Girl seemed to like that idea because she skittered as fast as her goat-like legs could take her into the other room.

            “Where the hell did you even find her?”

            “We found her in an abandoned house on the outskirts of town,” Adam replied, “along with the book.” He held up the book for Ronan to see.

            The angel physically recoiled, bumping his shoulder against the doorframe. He stared at the cover bound in human skin and looked at Adam and Gansey with haunted eyes. “If I were smart, I’d take that fucking thing and go straight to my brothers with it. You know we can’t do that. We need to put Kavinsky back in the pit and throw the key away.”

            “What should we do with it?”

            “Your dorm is the safest place for it, because of the sigils I put on your walls.”

            Adam had been afraid he’d say that. The idea of having such a dark and dangerous book in the small room he and Gansey shared wasn’t comforting. He glanced at Gansey, who nodded slightly. “Alright,” he drawled tiredly. “That’s as good of a place as any, I suppose.”

            Ronan stared at Adam for a heartbeat or two, swallowing. Finally, he tore himself away from whatever he'd been thinking and said, "you should probably go get some rest and put that thing in a safe place." 

            Adam stared back at him, ignoring the way that look made him feel like he had heartburn. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Ronan.” Then, he turned and headed back down the stairs.

            “Parrish, wait!” The angel called after him.

            Adam stopped, but Gansey went out to the Camaro. He turned back around to look at Ronan.

            “Can you see if there’s anything in that book about a demonic imprint?”

            “Imprint?” He echoed. “Like...what a baby bird does?”

            Ronan stared at him, the gears turning visibly in his head. There was a pregnant pause between them that could have been uncomfortable if it had been anyone else. Finally, he sighed and said, "that doesn't matter. Just see what you can find." 

            They were standing so close to each other. Adam could smell the mint toothpaste Ronan had used to brush his teeth and the smell of his shower gel. The psychic secretly wanted to know that the taste of that toothpaste was like on his lips.

             The night had been terrifying and exhausting. He was tired of denying himself the feelings he had for the angel. He was tired of tiptoeing around because of the stupid fucking demon. He was annoyed that his brothers wouldn't let them be happy together. He also had a feeling that things were going to go very sideways very soon. 

            "Adam," Ronan murmured quietly. His breath ghosted across Adam's face in a cloud of warm-scented mint. 

            “Ronan,” he breathed back. He could practically feel the magnetic pull in the air between them. “I feel like things are going to go bad very soon.”

            “Me too.”

            “I want to kiss you before shit hits the fan.”

            Ronan swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. “You’re sure?”

            “Yes.” Then, Adam reached up, cupped the back of Ronan’s neck and closed the distance between them.

            It wasn’t a spectacular kiss. It wasn’t an explosion of need and way. They weren’t ripping each other’s clothes off or back each other into walls.

            Instead, it was quiet and subtle. It was the firm press of lips against one another, the quick slide of tongue against tongue, and then they parted in a breathless way that left Adam’s lips tingling.

            “Stay safe,” Ronan told him.

            “You too,” he replied as he reached for the railing to go down the stairs.

            “Adam, do me a favor.”

            This caused the psychic to pause. He turned and looked at Ronan over his shoulder, a brow raised in a silent cue for the angel to continue.

            “Don’t let Gansey or Blue look at the pages of the book.”

            His brow furrowed at that. “Why?”

            “There’s a myth,” he explained, “I don’t know if it has any truth to it, that any mortal that rests his eyes on the page of the book will have his eyes burned out of his skull.”

            Adam was back to feeling sick. “Is it safe for _me_ to look at?”

            “You’re human, yes, but you’re also an old soul and a psychic. You’re not...quite like them.”

            Adam should have known that. He’d already looked at the open pages of the book long enough to realize that they’d been written in blood. “Okay, I won’t let them.”

            Ronan nodded and watched him for another moment or two before a crash sounded from the depths of his apartment. "Damn," he sighed before turning and stepping inside. Before he shut the door, Adam heard him shout, "Hey! Don't chase Chainsaw, you brat!" 

            A small smile twitched on Adam’s lips and he headed down the stairs. He was going to hide the Book of the Damned under his bed and maybe he’d get another hour or two of sleep before his morning classes started.

            Then, he’d do what he could before shit hit the fan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Tell me what you think!
> 
> This chapter title is from the song 'Nicotine' by Panic! At the Disco.


	29. Hard Times Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your feedback on the last chapter! It makes me feel loved! 
> 
> I can't believe we're winding down so quickly. This chapter is the last "slow" chapter before we really get on a roll!

            Having the girl around his apartment had been an adjustment for Ronan. She ate (or tried to eat) literally everything, she had an explosive reaction to overbearing emotions, similar to Ronan, and she’d taken to him immediately, causing a feud between her and Chainsaw.

            Ronan had to establish rules that she had to follow. She smelled like she rolled in something dead more often than not. She wasn't allowed on the couch without washing first and only if she promised not eat any more of it. She wasn't allowed to eat his belongings. She wasn't allowed to intentionally antagonize Chainsaw, either. Another rule, one Ronan only tried to follow slightly as well, was that she wasn't allowed to swear.

            Even though he was an angel, the words that often came pouring from his mouth were far from holy. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d used a specific expletive until he’d heard the girl shout, “oh, _fuck_!” after she’d eaten the last can in the recycling bin.

            Adam had referred to her as Orphan Girl, obviously unsure of what to call her and Ronan decided that he wasn’t calling her that. He told her to pick a different name.

            It had taken a few days for her to decide, but once she showed up to Ronan with a set of cufflinks from the early 1900’s with opal stones set in them.

            “What is this?” She had asked, pointing to the beautiful iridescent stone.

            “Opal,” he’d replied.

            She licked one of the stones, earning her a growled warning from the angel. To which she replied, “I was just _tasting_!”

            “Why do you have them out?”

            “I want my name to be that.”

            “Opal?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Alright,” he agreed. “Now go put those back.”

            She had done it, her hooves gleefully stomping across the hardwood floor.

            It had been several days since Adam and Gansey had found the book. It had also been several unsettling days of eerie quiet from the bond he shared with Kavinsky. He can still feel the demon’s emotions, but they’re nothing extreme. It made him feel like there was a storm coming and he didn’t like it.

            He wondered if Adam had found out anything different since the last time they’d talked about the book. It had been two nights ago. Maybe something new had turned up, even if Ronan was skeptical.

            He was debating on whether or not he should call him when his cell phone rang.

            Ronan looked at Adam’s name on his screen, silently wondering if it was Adam’s psychic intuition or just a coincidence that he’d called the angel just as Ronan had considered calling him. “Yeah?” He answered.

            “Hey,” Adam’s voice said over the phone. It sounded like it was close to the speaker, his breath puffing across it as he breathed. Judging from the clanging of tools in the background, he’d called him while he was working at Boyd’s. The phone was probably cradled between his ear and his shoulder.

            “Hey.”

            “So, I’ve been skimming the book…” he trailed off, interrupted by the clink of something on the other end. “ _Damn it_! Sorry, this transmission is giving me a run for my money.”

            Ronan pictured how Adam looked as he worked. His hand stained and dirty, sweat dripping from his brow, maybe he had a grease smear across a tan, freckled, cheek. He was half-tempted to hang up and fly there but decided against it.

            If Boyd was around, he probably would remember Ronan from the last time he’d gone to the garage. It hadn’t been the angel’s proudest moment.

            “So, the book doesn’t talk about demonic imprinting specifically,” Adam continued, unaware that Ronan had gone on a brief mental vacation in order to picture the mechanic at work. “But, it does talk about imprinting in general.”

            “Does it tell you how to break an imprint?”

            “No,” he replied, “but it says something along the lines of--” _Clang_! The sound of something metallic bouncing across the concrete floor cut him off. Adam let out a few colorful words and paused before continuing. “It says something along the lines of two beings imprinted upon each other share a fate...whatever that means.”

            “ _Fuck_!” The angel swore, despite his half-assed attempts to watch his language around Opal.

            He didn’t need Adam to clarify what the meant. He knew exactly what he meant about sharing a fate with the other half of his imprint. He couldn’t break the bond with Kavinsky unless he died. If one of them died, so did the other. It was far from ideal.

            It was especially far from ideal when he was finally beginning to feel like he fit in somewhere. He’d spent years as a fallen angel and then years as an angel redeemed. Still, he didn’t feel like he belonged. Yet, here in Henrietta, he felt like he fit in among the misfit supernatural creatures and humans.

            He didn’t want to die.

            On the other side of the line, Adam grunted softly. He was probably tightening a bolt of some sort. Finally, he asked, “why does it matter?”

            Ronan had wondered when that shoe was going to drop. He hated it. He hated that question almost more than he hated the answer to it.

            “Ronan? Are you still there?”

            He hadn’t realized he’d gone silent on the other end of the phone for so long. “Yeah, I’m still here.”

            The pause from Adam’s end made it clear that he was waiting for an answer to his question.

            “Back when Kavinsky first came to town,” he replied with a sigh, “he imprinted on me.”

            Adam was quiet again, but this time Ronan could practically see the gears turning in his head as he considered what the imprint meant for the angel. “What...does that entail?” He asked, his words were cautious and well-chosen.

            “I can feel Kavinsky’s emotions. I can feel when he gets hurt and shit like that. Apparently, he can feel that from my end too. The scary part is that he doesn’t care.” He rubbed his face as he vaguely remembered the punch Kavinsky had delivered to his nose during one of the nights he’d been fucked up.

            “What does that _mean_?”

            That was a loaded question and Adam didn’t have to elaborate for Ronan to know what he meant.

            What did that mean for the two of them?

            Although he and Adam weren’t anything official, their feelings for each other were known by one another. Being that Ronan and Kavinsky could feel each other’s emotions, it was implied that there was something more between them.

            There wasn’t.

            Kavinsky was a thorn in the angel’s side and he wanted him gone for eternity.

            Ronan’s words were a rush of hot air, “it means nothing. There is nothing between us. I want him gone for good. I’m tired of his mind-fuckery and his bullshit.”

            “How did it happen?” The clanking and sounds of metal on metal had stopped on the other end. Adam must have taken a break in his work to listen to what Ronan had to say.

            “The details are a little fuzzy,” he replied honestly. “It happened when I was really fucked up. He said he fed me his blood and that’s how it happened. All I know is that I woke up and I could feel his emotions in my chest.” He paused and looked out the window at Henrietta winding down for the night. “I didn’t want the bond. I never asked for this.”

            “I know. So...he fed you his blood?”

            “Yeah, I guess. I don’t think it was anything different. It wasn’t like the two of us had a sexual relationship those few weeks where I was fucked up.”

            On the other end of the phone, Adam laughed softly.

            Ronan narrowed his eyes in irritation. “What is so funny?”

            “It’s just that this is some real ‘Twilight’ shit.”

            The angel didn't understand the reference. He hadn't really been big into mainstream media over the past few decades. He'd been more concerned with blending into the crowd and eluding Declan. "I don't know what means."

            Adam briefly described the movie about vampires and werewolves. It seemed a little too far-fetched to Ronan. One of the highlights of the conversation was Adam describing how the vampires didn't burn in the sun. "They sparkled, Ronan. _Sparkled._ Could you imagine if Henry _sparkled_? God, that guy would be out all day every day and Noah would follow him around like a lost puppy. He has a thing for glitter, you know?"

            He moved past that to explain how the werewolves apparently had imprints and one of them even imprinted (in a supposedly non-creepy way) on a baby. He summarized the imprint in the books for the angel.

            Ronan shook his head. “No, it doesn’t sound like it’s quite the same thing.”

            The sounds of tinkering on the other end of the phone started up once again. “I was just joking.”

            “I sure hope so. Fucking imprinting on a toddler. That’s pretty fucking sick.”

            Adam lapsed into silence again. The absence of his voice was filled with sounds of him working. It wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it was the opposite. It was nice that he didn’t feel obligated to fill the silence with words. However, the silence didn’t last too long. “My tarot readings have not been good these past few days.”

            Ronan frowned at this. “Not good as in…?”

            “Not good as in I can’t tell whether or not the aura of the book is messing with my readings or if shit is going to hit the fan a lot sooner than we expected.”

            The memory of their kiss the other night in the stairwell had Ronan brushing his fingertips across his lips in memory of a kiss that wasn’t there anymore.

            “It could be either,” the angel replied. “If there isn’t a way to get rid of the imprint, do you think the book contains a spell that will banish Kavinsky to Hell forever? I mean, if it can open all of the gates of Hell like he plans, then surely it has something to keep the demons in.”

            “I’ll have to look.”

            He nodded at that. “Okay. Use Maura and Calla’s help if you need to.”

            “We’re not witches,” Adam told him. “We’re psychics.”

            The angel rolled his blue eyes. “Psychics and witches are the same thing. It’s all about how you use your abilities. Back in the day psychics were called witches, magicians, and shit like that.”

            Adam exhaled sharply, the breath transforming into a string of curses that made the angel simultaneously proud and half-tempted to tell him to wash his mouth out with soap. He had thought that he’d been the only one capable of cussing like that.

            “Are you okay?”

            “I smashed my damn thumb!” He took a few calming breaths in on the other end of the line and then said, “I’ll see what we can do about keeping Kavinsky in Hell.”

            A low beeping sounded in Ronan’s ear. He blinked and looked at the screen. He saw that Gansey was trying to call him, which was weird. Gansey knew he hardly ever answered his phone. It must have been important.

            “Gansey is calling me,” he informed the other man.

            “You should probably answer it. It might be important.”

            “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

            “Ronan,” Adam said before he could get hung up on, “be careful. The cards are no joke.”

            He blinked and considered that for a moment. “Yeah, you too.”

            He hung up after bidding him a hasty farewell and answered Gansey’s call just moments before his phone was going to send it to voicemail.

            “Ronan,” Gansey breathed on the other end of the line. His voice was two parts worried and one part relieved. It automatically clued the angel in that something was wrong. “I just got off of the phone with Blue. Maura and Calla are missing.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song 'Death Valley' by Fall Out Boy


	30. I Need Light, I Need Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for not updating Sunday. I've been going through some personal issues and I wasn't emotionally or mentally prepared to write this chapter in time to update on time. Also, I think I am just going to change my updating schedule to every Wednesday. 
> 
> Also, sorry for any grammatical errors in this chapter. For some reason Grammarly was giving me a hard time when I tried to upload this chapter. Also, I'm updating this on my chromebook because my old laptop officially crapped out. So, if there's any problems with the formatting please let me know!

      Adam had talked to Ronan on the phone until the angel had to disconnect to receive a call from Gansey. 

      He’d packed the Book of the Damned in his backpack so he could read up on it during break. He hated to toting it around, but he felt obligated to, considering that it could potentially burn the eyes out of any mortal that tried to read it.

      The last thing he wanted was for Gansey or anyone else to get their eyes burned out of their skull. 

      He made sure for the tenth time that the book was secure in his backpack before he started shutting down the shop for the night. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was eminent. He had a feeling that part of the sick feeling in his stomach split evenly between carrying the Book of the Damned with him and the fact that his card readings had been ominous. 

      It felt like a cold front before a storm, making the hair on his arms stand on end and sending shivers down his spine. 

      Typically, Adam wouldn’t have given any thought to shutting down the shop. He’d done it so many times that he could practically do it in his sleep. Put the oily rags in the bin, ensure the tools were in their proper places, turn off the lights, and the air compressor. 

      However, things were different tonight. He had a feeling it was the dark aura from the book that made the shadows seem darker and the normal. It made the ticking of cooling down machinery seem ten times more ominous. 

      “You’re being paranoid, Adam,” he told himself with a shake of his head. 

      He scooped up his backpack and put it on. Maybe he was imagining the way he felt like his backpack was ice cold through his jacket. Maybe he wasn’t. 

      Adam gave the shop one last judicious look before he stepped outside and pulled the garage door shut. He latched the padlock in place and went to his pick standing under the lone light mounted to the concrete wall of the garage. 

      He tried to put the kickstand up, but the old mountain bike let out a pitiful screech of protest as he kicked at it. 

      He needed to get some grease after the rusty kickstand, but he didn’t want to unlock the garage to go back in and get it. He cussed and bent over, tipping the bike on its side as he tried to fight with it. 

      Finally, the rusty hunk of metal gave way with grating squeal. 

      Adam exhaled a breath and stood up. He tensed, unable to shake the feeling like he was being watched. He gazed out at the parking lot in front of him, the potholes in it almost invisible in the dim light. 

      He was almost afraid to turn around. 

_       It’s just the book _ , he reminded himself. The book was at his back. The ominous feeling it gave off would make him feel like he was being watched. 

      Still, he didn’t find that reminder comforting as he turned around anyway. 

      He jerked to a halt when he came face-to-face with a venomous smirk, white sunglasses, and inches of pale skin exposed by a tank top that was too revealing for the chilly weather. 

      He couldn’t move. He felt like a deer in the headlights.

      Kavinsky was too fast. There was the flash of a steel prybar, the sound of metal against Adam’s skull, and blinding white light behind his eyes. 

      Then, there was nothing.

* * *

 

      Before Adam opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the throbbing spot on the left side of his head. When he was sure he wasn’t going to throw up, he opened his eyes. He had to blink at least four times before the rotting beams overhead came into focus. 

      He didn’t turn his head to get a better look. He did the best he could at observing his new surroundings without moving too quickly. 

      High sloped ceilings, exposed beams, a few small areas exposed to the weather, and behind him was a cross hanging crooked on the wall. 

_       A church. I’m in an old church _ . 

      The next thing he noticed was that the ropes binding his wrists to the arms of the chair he was sitting in were so tight that his fingers were tingling. They were probably compressing his radial and ulnar arteries. He made a fist in an attempt to soothe his tingling fingers. 

      Finally, he lifted his head. 

      The entire world seemed to blur in and out of focus at the sudden movement. Adam had to breathe deeply to keep himself from puking on himself. Finally, he was able to glance to his right. Maura sat next to him and on his left sat Calla. 

_       What the hell is going on _ ? 

      “What are we doing here?” He finally asked, his voice soft and weaker than usual. 

      “Why don’t you ask the black-eyed asshole that brought us here?” Calla growled. She tugged on the ropes around her wrists fruitlessly.

      “ _ Kavinsky _ ,” he breathed. 

      Kavinsky had kidnapped them and brought them there. 

      That realization infuriated Adam. It had him clenching and unclenching his fists as he felt his rage  rise steadily in his throat, causing the pounding in his head to grow in intensity.

      Not only did it make him angry, it scared him. The demon had warned him that people would start to die if he didn’t get the book. He was probably far from thrilled to learn that the book had been in Adam’s possession for several days and it hadn’t been handed over. 

      The only thing more terrifying than the fact that they were most likely going to die was the sight of Kavinsky leaning against the podium thumbing through the blood-red pages as if it were the daily newspaper. 

      He could end the world with just a few pages from that book. 

      He was crazy enough to do it. 

      “Adam,” Maura asked from his side. When he turned his head as far as he could to look at her she asked, “where did you find that book?” 

      He looked away, knowing that he probably should have went to the women of Fox Way for help. He shrugged his shoulders as best as he could.

      “It’s dangerous.” 

      “I know. I had it so I could keep Kavinsky from getting it.” 

      The demon flicked through another page. “You know,” he said without looking up, “it’s rude to talk about people like they aren’t in the room.” 

      Adam’s bad mood turned even more sour. “What the hell are we doing here, Kavinsky?” He snarled at the demon, tugging at the ropes around his wrists once more. “What is going on?” 

      The demon closed the book and flashed his teeth at Adam. He stood up straight and inspected Adam as if the human amused him. “You completed the first part of your homework assignment. Now it’s time for the second part.” He held up the book casually, like it was an algebra textbook instead of a book bound in human skin and written in blood. “There’s a spell in here that I need you three to do.” 

      “What did you drag Maura and Calla into this?” He demanded.

      “Don’t you know that powerful things have elements of three?” 

      He knew it was true. He always felt more in-tune with his psychic abilities when he was with the psychic women next to him. 

      “This spell,” Maura said, “what does it do?” 

      Adam knew exactly what the spell was going to do and he knew that Maura wasn’t going to like the answer.

      “It’s a spell that will bust open the gates of Hell and bring it to Earth. It’ll cause a war between the angels and the demons. Humans will get caught in the crossfire, but,” he shrugged, “I’m okay with that.” 

      “What if we refuse to help you, you filthy bastard?” 

      “Well, I know that Orla is back at 300 Fox Way trying on her twelfth outfit for her date with a guy she’s not really interested and that Blue is riding around with her preppy rich boyfriend in his tacky orange Camaro looking for you.” 

      “I always hated that car,” Maura muttered under her breath.

      Kavinsky moved forward and cut the ropes binding them to their chairs. “Now, here’s the book. Get cracking. The sooner we do this spell, the better.” 

      Adam stood up and rubbed the angry red lines on his wrists.

      There were demons at the main entrance to the church and a few other stationed around the room, acting as guards or a look-out. They wouldn’t be able to run. 

      He glanced up to the ceiling and contemplated praying to Ronan. 

      “Let’s keep our thoughts inside of that pretty head of yours, huh, Parrish?” Kavinsky asked, tapping Adam right between the eyebrows. “Remember what I said about the angel not being able to heal a heart that’s already stopped? The same rules apply here.” 

      Adam glared at Kavinsky and took the book from him. 

      He moved to the center of the empty church, among the piles of pillar candles, assorted vials, and other items needed to cast a spell. He sat down, glancing at Maura and Calla when they joined him. 

      The look they gave him told him they were all on the same page. There wasn’t much they could do except waste time and hope that Ronan found them before they  _ had _ to cast the spell. 

      They could stall, but only for so long. 

      Adam opened the book. He hated the cold, dark aura it gave off. He hated the way it made him feel like it was sucking the warmth from his body and the life out of his lungs. It made him feel like he was suffocating. 

      He flipped through the pages, Maura leaned in close. He could smell the heavy scent of sage and herbs clinging to her hair and her clothing. It was the closest thing to comfort he had at the moment. It was better than nothing, he supposed.

      He could have been imagining things, but it felt like his fingers were growing colder with each page that he turned. He actually stopped and rubbed them together at one point to warm them up again. 

      He stopped flipping about three-quarters of the way through the book and stared down at the pages that were spread before him. It was the spell that would end the world. 

      His eyes roamed over the words scribed in Latin. He had done well in his Latin class in college. He could read most of it. There were a few words that he didn’t know, but the meaning of the overall instructions was clear. 

      He swallowed and looked up at Maura. 

_       Help is coming _ , he tried to tell her with his eyes.  _ I swear, he’s on his way _ . 

      The look she gave him in return said,  _ I hope you’re right. _

      “Oh good, you found it!” Kavinsky exclaimed. He crouched down between them and looked from the book to the psychics. His arms rested easily on his knees, a gun rested in his hand. He tapped it with his index finger. “Time is of the essence, you know. Get to it, psychic-boy!” He clapped Adam on the shoulder hard enough to make his already throbbing head throb harder. 

      Adam gave him a disgusted look in return. 

      The demon stood up and got out of the way, but he was close enough that a fired shot wouldn’t miss its intended target. 

      Once again, Adam found himself looking to the rotting ceiling of the ancient church. He hoped Ronan would find them sooner rather than later. 

      “You heard him,” Calla muttered as she began to gather up armfuls of candles. “We better get started before he shoots us.”

      Maura and Adam nodded, rising to help her. 

      They were going to take their time in the hopes that Ronan would arrive before they finished. Only, not so much time that Kavinsky ended up getting impatient. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from the song 'Down to the Bottom' by Dorothy.


	31. Way Down We Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I happened to be going back through this story the other day and I realized that in some of the chapters there are entire paragraphs missing! Thankfully, it hasn't changed much the story line, but I am going to go back in and add them in at some point this week. 
> 
> Thank you all for being so supportive about me slowing down my updates so they're only once a week instead of twice. It's really helped me a lot. 
> 
> For some reason grammarly isn't working for me still, so please excuse any errors (feel free to point them out to me as well) and enjoy!

            Ronan had been a lot of places in his life and he’d seen a lot of things. He had never been in a psychic’s house before. Or a house full of psychics, for that matter. Yet, it was exactly what he had expected...but also more. 

            The place smelled of burning herbs, was decorated with obscure items that didn’t make any sense, yet showed the taste of each resident that lived there. It was cluttered, but not in the way Ronan’s apartment was. His apartment was cluttered with relics from his past. 300 Fox Way was cluttered with assorted objects that brought slivers of happiness to the home’s residents. 

            “ _ Are you even listening _ ?” Blue demanded, drawing his attention from a framed photo of Steve Martin hanging in the living room. 

            Ronan scoffed and gave her derisive look. 

            She didn’t flinch away from his unimpressed gaze. Blue was the master at playing the game he played where they stared at each other. She was so good that, eventually, it had to be a draw. “I  _ said _ ,” she repeated deliberately, “that something is wrong. My mom always leaves a note or calls me. She and Calla are gone and it’s just not right.” 

            Ronan didn’t understand why he had to be at Blue’s house. He frowned and eyed Steve Martin again. “Does Adam know where they went? Aren’t they psychic Obi Wan and Yoda to his Luke?” 

            “I tried to call him,” Gansey said, “and he didn’t pick up.” 

            The angel didn’t know why Adam killed himself trying to pay for a cell phone that he couldn’t be bothered to answer. He didn’t voice that outloud, being that his own phone sat untouched for days at a time. 

            Perhaps Maura said something to Adam about where she and Calla had gone, but judging by the disarray in the kitchen, their absence hadn’t been a planned endeavor. There was still half-eaten pieces of bacon wrapped chicken and vegetables drenched in butter that had gotten cold long ago on plates sitting among overturned cups. 

            “Maybe he’ll answer your phone call?” Blue asked looking at Ronan.

            Ronan made a face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d called someone on the phone. The longest conversation he’d had recently on the phone had been with Adam earlier that night, before Gansey had called him. 

            “Ronan,” she said, “just try. Please.” 

            He pulled his phone and out dialled Adam’s number. 

            It rang half a dozen times before saying that his voice mailbox wasn’t set up yet.

            Something in his gut twisted. He’d just gotten off the phone with him less than an hour ago. This wasn’t right. None of it was right. 

_             With three witches in town...you should be able to find it. _

            They had found the book. 

            One of the three witches Kavinsky had mentioned had been in possession of it. The other two just happened to take up residence in this very home. It wasn’t a coincidence. It was a kidnapping. 

            Ronan tightened his grip on his cellphone, his knuckles turning white. He was beyond pissed. Kavinsky had pushed it too fucking far. 

            “Ronan?” Gansey asked, eyeing his friend cautiously. 

            “He has them,” Ronan said, heat in his voice. “Kavinsky fucking has them and if he doesn’t have the book yet, he’ll have it soon.” 

            “I can see if Adam left it under his bed,” he offered. 

            Ronan nodded, “do that. I’ll see if I can figure out where they’ve gone. I’ll meet you at your dorm, but I have to go back to my apartment first.” 

            Gansey fished the camaro keys out of his pocket. “Okay.” 

            “Gansey, don’t look in the book.” 

            “I won’t.” He reached out and put a soft hand on Blue’s shoulder and guided her outside. 

            Ronan didn’t wait until the tail lights of the Pig vanished down the narrow street to fly to the apartment. He left the second Gansey put the car in gear, vanishing as quickly as a shadow in a bright light. 

             His wings burned as he appeared in his bedroom. He flexed them with a pained hiss before he went to the spot below his bed where the angel sword he’d taken from Gansey was resting. 

            He gripped the pommel and gave it an experimental twirl. The gleaming blade flashed in the dim light of the lamp in the corner of his room. The grip was worn, even if it wasn’t his sword, it felt familiar in his hand. The weight of it was heavy, it took him back to centuries of training. 

            Ronan resheathed the sword and carefully arranged it on his back so he could carry it without hurting his wing scars even more.

            He found Opal feeding Chainsaw pieces of candy she found beneath the couch cushions. It was gross. 

            Ronan made a face. “Opal, stop feeding her that garbage. That’s disgusting.”

            Opal glared at him and tossed another piece of melted candy to Chainsaw across the room. 

            He wasn’t sure if she was trying to win over the raven’s affections or if actual food (even old, sticky food) was unappetizing to her. 

            “I’ll be back,” he told her. “I don’t know when, but I will eventually. Don’t eat any of my shit.” 

            Her too-big eyes were on him even as he vanished from the room. 

            His wings weren’t too happy about the short flight from his apartment to Gansey’s dorm. By the time he arrived, Blue and Gansey were just parking the Pig. 

            The three of them set to tearing apart the dorm in an unsuccessful attempt to find the Book of the Damned. 

            The three of them stood staring at each other, unsure of where to go from there. The book wasn’t in the dorm. Either Kavinsky had managed to locate it with a demonic-energy sonar, despite Ronan’s sigils, or Adam had it.

            And Kavinsky had Adam. Which meant he also had the book. 

            “How the fuck are we supposed to find the book now?” Ronan demanded, his mood turning black. He could feel the smugness thrumming through the bond he shared with Kavinsky. It was accompanied by something like amusement. 

            Wherever the demon was, he was enjoying watching his fucked up plan unfold without a single crease out of place. 

            “The book?” Blue asked with a snort, “what about my mom?” 

            “They’re together, wherever they are.” 

            At some point during the frantic search, Noah had appeared sitting on Adam’s desk. He was looking out the window at the dark night sky. “What about the abandoned church? You know, the one near the county line?” 

            Ronan fixed him with scathing look. 

            “What? It’s where I’d go if I were a demon.” 

             Ronan glared through the window by Adam’s bed. It made sense. Kavinsky had a twisted sense of irony and a flare for the dramatic. Doing a satanic ritual that would bring Hell to Earth in a  _ church _ was exactly the type of thing the demon would do. 

            “Do you know where that is?” He asked Gansey. 

            “Yes,” he replied. 

            “Get there as quickly as you can. I’ll be there when you arrive.” 

            “Should we call the police?” 

            “No,” the angel replied, “they won’t understand the truth. I’ll handle it.” 

            “Ronan!” Gansey called after him as the the blue eyed angel opened the door. “Be safe.” 

            Ronan flicked his gaze to his best friend. He assessed the brightness in Gansey’s eyes, the way his brown hair was ruffled, and his informal jeans and Aglionby sweatshirt. “I will,” he said. 

            He didn’t have time to linger. He turned away from them and headed down the halls, looking for an easier spot to take off outside. 

            He stormed past a kid with his hair too long and his t-shirt with too many holes in it. 

            “Whoa!” The kid exclaimed, turning around to watch Ronan pass. He hurried toward him and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Dude, you LARP? That’s pretty fucking sick! That sword is incredible!” 

            Ronan gave the stranger an icy glare that promptly caused the guy to remove his hand from his shoulder. He had no clue what a LARP was. 

            “Oh...you don’t LARP? What about cosplay?” 

            “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about and if you touch me again you’re going to regret it.” 

            “Okay, okay. Holy shit…” The stranger eyed Ronan with a mixture of horror and confusion. He gave him one more fleeting look before turning and heading back the way he’d come. 

            Ronan was annoyed by the brief interruption. He thundered down three flights of stairs and shoved open the door. He didn’t waste time making sure he was out of sight from any potential onlookers when they couldn’t see his wings anyway. He spread them, feeling the hot burn in his back, and took to the sky. 

* * *

 

           Adam was hyper-aware of every second that had ticked by on his seven dollar wristwatch  while he desperately tried to remember the words to the exorcism. He was sitting on his knees, slowly and carefully drawing sigils on the uneven floorboards of the church floor in what had to be blood. 

            He wasn’t taking his time to make sure they were done right. He was doing it to buy them more time. With each completed sigil, the air in the church seemed to grow thicker, the shadows grew darker, the atmosphere heavier. 

            He felt like he was being smothered like a flame deprived of oxygen. 

            The words to the exorcism was escaping him. He had been the best in his Latin class his Freshman year of college. He was trying to think of the words in English and translate them over in Latin. It was harder to do under duress than it seemed. 

            Not only that, he had no idea what would happen if he started to spout-off the words of the exorcism in a room full of demons. Would there be smoke and fire or would it be projectile vomiting like that one movie he’d watched with Blue? 

            He had no idea.

            Adam let out a pained grunt as a boot connected with his ribs. He almost spilled the bowl of blood sitting at his side. He gripped his ribs and shot Kavinsky a dark look from where he stood over him. 

           “Don’t get any smart ideas. Your boyfriend will be here any minute.”

            Adam didn’t bother telling him that the two of them had never declared themselves an official couple. It didn’t matter, not right now. Not when the world was minutes away from coming to an end. 

            He picked up his paintbrush and got back to working finishing his sigils. 

            Once he finished, there was nothing they could do. There was nothing that could stall this process any further. 

            He met Maura and Calla’s gaze. They booth looked as unsettled as he felt inside.  _ What if Ronan never shows up _ ? He wondered. 

_             No, _ he told himself. He was coming. He’d be here. 

            “Well,” Kavinsky said, gesturing to them. “Get on with it.” 

             He sucked in a breath and tried to steady the rapid thrum of his heart. Then, he held out his hands to Calla and Maura. 

             The second their hands met, sweaty palm to sweaty palm, the air changed. The darkness around them swelled and pulsed like a living, thriving thing. It was hungry, sucking the warmth from his bones and the light from the air in the center of the circle. 

            They looked at each other once more. 

            Adam felt like he was going to be sick. 

            They didn’t want to do this. 

            The cold click of metal against metal sounded and Kavinsky appeared behind Calla. The glint of the gun’s muzzle in the candle light was just as malevolent as the demon holding it. “Time is of the essence,” he said. “Get to it before I have to hunt down another psychic. I won’t have to go far, just back to your house, but it will still be inconvenient.”

            Maura’s jaw clenched, but she lowered her eyes to the blood-red text and started to read. Her voice carried weight and power. 

            Satisfied, Kavinsky retreated to lean against the wall again. 

            Three lines in, two things happened. The flames on the candles rocketed skyward by the force of magic and the ceiling crashed in by the force of an angel. 

* * *

 

             Ronan flew straight and true to his destination. 

            The church sat nestled in a overgrown cluster of trees, half-hidden by a hill. It’s roof was sagging, rotted through in certain spots. It’s steeple sat at an obscure angle, seemingly ready to topple at a strong gust of wind. The windows had been busted out of it long ago. 

            Adam was in there. 

            Ronan swing himself so his feet broke through the rotting roof first. He spread his wings to slow himself down. Once his feet hit the rickety, warped floorboards, he drew himself up straight. He made himself look like a predator, ready to taken on a pack of lions treading in his territory. 

             He met Adam’s gaze, that looked more relieved than anything. 

_              I’m going to get you guys out of here, _ he promised the man silently. 

_             I know _ , Adam’s silently reply said.

            “Angel-face!” Kavisnky exclaimed, pushing himself up from the way he’d been carelessly leaning against the wall. “You made it. I was wondering if you were going to show up.” He slid a slanted look at Adam. “Although, I told  _ somebody  _ to keep his thoughts to himself.” 

            “It wasn’t him,” Ronan said. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides as he watched the demon saunter forward. “You’re just too damn predictable.” 

            Kavinsky gave him a slippery smile. “I know. I was hoping you’d come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is from the song 'Way Down We Go' by Kaleo.


	32. How The Mighty Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man...I have to admit guys, writing this one made me emotional. I hope you enjoy!

           Adam had never been more relieved to see Ronan in his entire life. Okay, maybe the time where Ronan had literally brought him from the brink of death after he wrecked his car was number one, but this was definitely a close second. 

           His eyes roamed over the shape of Ronan in the candle light of their circle. 

           The angel looked more like a god than anything he’d ever seen before. He stood with an obvious tension in his muscles, like a coiled spring waiting for release. He held the sword with an easy comfort that was the work of years of practice. His wings were visible, tucked in behind his back, glinting oily in the light of the flame. 

           Ronan was a warrior of God and it was more apparent than ever. 

           Kavinsky seemed unaffected by Ronan’s dominant presence. He moved behind the podium, where a preacher had once given his last sermon. In fact, he looked almost bored by the fact that everything about Ronan, from the snarl on his lips to the mighty sword in his hands, was a threat. 

           The tension in the air was palpable.

           Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The only sound in the church was the agonized groan of wood from the podium Kavinsky was leaning on. 

           The demon inspected Ronan with a lengthy, calculating look. Then, he said, “well, I’m bored.” He flicked his fingers in the angel’s direction. The grin that split his face as all of the demons guarding the church surged forward contradicted his words. 

           The last time Adam had seen Ronan wield that sword had been when he’d pulled him from the burning contents of his car. The memory was hazy at best, interrupted by states of unconsciousness and blinding pain. 

           There was something breathtaking about the way Ronan fought. It was a lethal dance that was absolutely captivating. 

           Two of the demons lunged at Ronan, but the angel disposed of them with two well-calculated and deadly strokes. He didn’t waste time to see them turn to ash. 

           A third demon snarled at Ronan. It looked like the one that had landed on Adam’s car. It had two beaks, sharp claws, and a thirst for blood. 

Ronan raised a hand and pressed it directly against the demon’s head, stepping aside out of the path of jagged blood-seeking claws. 

           The demon let out a enraged snarl and tried to take another swipe of the angel, but it was too late. He disintegrated to ash before his claws could make contact. 

           Adam felt heat rise up in his chest, burning brightly. Ronan was a warrior. He was  _ incredible _ and Adam got to watch him be amazing. It was unbelievable. 

           Ronan was outnumbered. That alone was enough to make him nervous, but it was obvious that Ronan could handle himself. 

           The demons knew it too. 

           They didn’t like it. 

           Adam didn’t know if demons could get scared, but the two that were left seemed to be. They seemed to know they were going to lose and were looking for a way out. 

           The psychic let out a cry as claws raked in his hair, yanking him out of the circle. He felt blood well up on the back of his neck, hot in contrast to the demon’s icy talons. It wasn’t until they were halfway between the exit and Ronan did Adam realize the demon was using him as a human shield. 

            Adam locked eyes with Ronan. He could tell by the determined look on Ronan’s face and the hardness in his eyes that he wasn’t going to let the demon go away unscathed. 

           The thought of Ronan swinging that greatsword so close to Adam’s head made his stomach knot up. Ronan would never hurt him on purpose, but it would be hard for him to miss Adam completely. 

           It took four great strides for Ronan to close the distance between them. The sword glinted in the candlelight along with the hostility in his blue eyes. He raised it and brought it crashing down. 

           Adam pinched his eyes shut and waited for the blow. 

           The iron-like hold the demon had on him faded away as the the monster disintegrated to ash behind him. 

           Only after Adam was sure that he could still breathe, did he open his eyes. 

           “Are you okay?” Ronan asked quietly. 

           He reached up and touched the back of his neck where the light trickle of blood came from the scrape left by the demon’s talons. “I’m fine,” he promised. 

           Ronan reached up and touched the cut. 

           Warmth seared Adam down to his bones. 

           “There,” he said pulling his hand away. It was free of blood. 

           Adam reached up and touched the spot where Ronan’s fingers had just been. There was no familiar sting from touching a cut. It was healed. 

           “You should probably get out of the way,” Ronan said. His eyes weren’t looking at Adam anymore. They were fixed on the last of Kavinsky’s minions, hissing and spitting in rage. 

           Adam nodded and gave Ronan one last look. “Be careful.” 

           “I will.” 

           He stepped back and made his way to Maura and Calla, who were watching with stunned looks.

           Ronan was fixed on the remaining demon, like a wolf on a dying prey animal. He twirled the sword in an expert motion that showed just how comfortable he was with his weapon. His muscles coiled and he lunged, jumping halfway across the room in one mighty motion. 

           The demon realized the angel was coming for him and raised his claws to fight, but it was too late. Before he could take  a swipe at Ronan, the mighty blade of the angel sword was protruding out of his back, buried to the hilt in his chest. It didn’t even make a sound as it dissolved into dust. 

            Kavinsky let out an exaggerated sigh and stood up straight. His steps echoed through the church, slow and deliberate as he crossed the floor toward Ronan. “You know, there’s no version of this where you come out alive.” 

            “I’ll take my chances,” Ronan snapped back. “What about you? Are we really doing this?” 

           “Those other guys,” he gestured around the church to indicated the demons that Ronan had already slayed. “They were child’s play. Consider them a warm up. Me, being a Nephilim in the past gives me a little more kick. I’m no Knight of Hell, but I’m pretty fucking juiced up, if I do say so myself. And you,” he gave Ronan a belittling look, “you’re no Archangel.”

           Adam could see the way that comment got under Ronan’s skin, how it ignited a fire in his veins. 

           The angel strode forward and took a swing at Kavinsky that should have taken his head off. 

           It  _ would  _ have taken his head off if it hadn’t been for the fact that the demon disappeared into a puff of smoke and resolidified behind Ronan. 

           “Come on, Lynch!” He exclaimed with a patronizing chuckle. “You have to try a little harder than that.” 

* * *

 

           The hair on the back of Ronan’s neck was standing on end. His fingers curled around the grip of the sword, feeling the indents the fingers of his brother before him had left behind. His eyes didn’t leave Kavinsky as he watched him, waiting for an opportunity to strike. 

           He was feeling a mess of emotions. He was worried about Adam, Maura, and Calla. He wanted to get them out of the church and ensure they stayed safe. He was tired, fighting the demons had put him through paces he hadn’t practiced for decades. He was furious at Kavinsky for trying to go through with his fucked up plan and enraged that he’d dragged the psychics into this mess. 

           But his emotions didn’t matter. If he let his feelings get in the way, things would end poorly for both the angel and his mortal friends. He needed to focus. 

           He needed to get the psychics the hell out of the church. Things were going to get ugly. He could sense it in his bones. 

           He expected Gansey to arrive any minute. If he could shepherd them out of the building and into the Pig, they could safely drive away while Ronan took care of the demonic pest grinning at him. 

_ Focus _ , he snapped at himself before he raised the sword and advanced on Kavinsky again. 

           The demon dodged it like it was a water balloon and not a deadly demon-killing weapon. 

           Ronan swung again. 

           Kavinsky side-stepped.

           He swung again. 

           Kavinsky dissolved into smoke before the blade made contact. 

           It was a frustrating and exhausting exchange, the deadliest one the two of them had ever participated in. 

           Ronan was getting frustrated. He felt like he was taking one step forward and two steps back every time Kavinsky got within striking range. He was also growing tired. Ronan hadn’t fought anyone this long or hard in quite a while. 

           Kavinsky met Ronan’s blow wrist-to-wrist. The shock went up the angel’s arm and knocked the blade from his hand. It clattered to the floor with a resonating ring. 

           It took Ronan a second to register what had happened. He’d been disarmed. The sword was between him and Kavinsky on the floor. He dove for it, but was too slow. 

           Kavinsky held up the wicked blade and an amused look. “Did you drop something? Damn, that sucks. Finders-keepers, you know?” 

           “You can’t kill him!” Adam exclaimed from where he stood. “You can’t kill him because if you do, you’ll die too!” 

           The demon’s expression darkened at the sound of his voice. He turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up! I didn’t ask for your input. Get back to work!” 

           Ronan’s heart was beating an impossible rhythm against his ribs. He could hear his own pulse roaring in his ears. Kavinsky was between him and the door, with a sword between them. It was far from ideal. 

           He needed to sword to stop Kavinsky, because he couldn’t get close enough to smite him while it was in the demon’s possession. He wasn’t stupid enough to try to do it while the sword was in his possession. He didn’t want to lose a limb. 

           Sure, it would hurt Kavinsky too, but the disturbing part about that was that the demon didn’t care. He didn’t care that he would destroy himself in an attempt to kill Ronan. It made him dangerous. 

            Ronan inhaled a breath and gauged the size of the room. He steeled himself against the burning pain in his back and spread his wings. 

            He appeared behind Kavinsky in an instant, his pale arms wrapping around the demon’s chest and throat. “Give it back, you fucking bastard!” 

           “Take it from me, Lynch!” 

           Their struggle was full of grunted curse words and furious snarls as they grappled for the sword, the weapon that could kill both of them. 

           Fire burned through Ronan’s leg as the sword bit into the back of his thigh. He tried to stay standing, supporting both his weight and Kavinsky’s, but it didn’t work. He collapsed to the floor of the church, struggling to keep Kavinsky off of his back. It didn’t work. He was pinned down. 

           “This brings back old memories, doesn’t it?” Kavinsky said into Ronan’s ear. His breath hot against his skin. His clammy hand clamped around Ronan’s throat and squeezed. 

           It wasn’t going to kill him, but it was uncomfortable. Ronan gasped for air, feeling the weight of Kavinsky’s grip around his windpipe. 

           Something black passed over Adam’s expression. It was the sight of cold fury that Ronan had never witnessed before. He moved toward the angel and the demon, fists curled and shaking in bottled up fury. 

          “Not so fast, hicktown!” Kavinsky snapped. He extended a hand and held it out, fingers curled like he was squeezing an invisible stress ball. 

           Adam stopped in his tracks, his hand going to his throat as he tried to pry away a hand that wasn’t physically there. 

           “You’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve,” Kavinsky hissed at Ronan. His breath smelled like old cigarettes. “You pretend like you’re some sort of hardass, but we all know you’re just a sucker. Your little protective streak is going to get you and the people you care about killed.” Toward the end, his voice was a squeaky rasp, the effect of his own hand on Ronan’s throat taking a toll on him through their bond. 

           Ronan struggled against the hand on his throat. He was worried about Adam. His face had gone from a deep, deep red to an almost purple color. 

           Through the bond he could feel the sick satisfaction, the  _ pleasure _ Kavinsky was experiencing from this. That sick bastard was  _ getting off _ on choking Adam into unconsciousness. 

            It pissed Ronan off more than anything. 

           Adam’s attempts to claw off the invisible hand clamped around his throat slowed clumsily and then stopped all together. Then, his blue eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

           Satisfied, Kavinsky released his invisible grip around Adam’s throat and let the psychic collapse to the warped floorboards of the church. 

            Ronan’s ears were ringing.  _ Please don’t let him be dead _ , he thought to no one in particular. 

           Calla rushed to Adam’s side and pressed two fingers to his pulse point. She glanced over her shoulder at Maura and mouthed the word ‘unconscious’. 

           Ronan was overcome with two emotions, relief and unbelievable rage. It was a fury so strong that in seared his insides and left him blind. He let out an infuriated cry and grabbed Kavinsky by the hair. He felt the pain in his own head, but it was tolerable. He could handle it. 

           He twisted around and shoved Kavinsky off of him. “I’m going to fucking kill you!” 

           Kavinsky let out a raspy laugh and stood up to face Ronan. “You’re so fucking predictable. You hate it when people fuck with your toys.” 

           The blind rage was burning through him, consuming him down to every last bone and muscle fiber in his body. Ronan let out a furious snarl and charged at Kavinsky the way a football player rushed to make a tackle. 

            They collided in a thunder of limbs, skin, and muscle. They wrestled on the floor of the church, both of them fighting for the higher ground. 

           Kavinsky remembered Ronan’s weakness and didn’t hesitate to exploit it, his bony thumbs digging into the base of Ronan’s wings, forcing the scars to flare up angrily. 

           The pain ripped through him, knocking the air out of his lungs. As Ronan tried to buck the demon off of his back, he couldn’t help but think that the demon was feeling this too, but he was unrelenting nonetheless. 

           Somewhere, through the pain, Ronan could feel the sick satisfaction from Kavinsky’s end of the bond. 

_ What a fucking masochist _ , he thought through the haze of agony radiating from his back. 

           Then, the pain wasn’t just the pressure of thumbs against his back. It was a cold-sharp blade slicing through layers of feathers, muscle, and sinew. It was the icy cut of a metal edge and the scalding heat of blood. 

_ “Ronan!”  _ Adam’s voice came from somewhere in the church, raspy and thick from just regaining consciousness after being choked out. 

           The world shifted out of focus. 

           He must have blacked out from the unbearable pain, because the next thing he knew, he was on his knees in a pool of his own blood. 

           His eyes focused on the two black feathered blobs before him. He saw the disheveled state of his black feathers, the jut of bone sticking out at the bases, the way the blood was almost as black as the color of the feathers it was seeping into. 

           He felt blood soaking through his black tank and into the lining of his leather jacket. It was soaking into the waistband of his jeans, weighing him down. 

           He was going to be sick. 

           “Poor little bird,” Kavinsky cooed unsympathetically. His mocking pity dissolved into a malignant cackle. “Did somebody clip your wings again?”

           Despite the fact that he was bleeding out, Ronan felt thunderous anger overcome him. He staggered to his feet, his boots slipping in his own blood as he tried to stand tall. He fixed Kavinsky with a stormy look, laced with malice. His eyes glowed with the white light of celestial grace that couldn’t heal the wounds created by an angel sword. 

           He knew what he had to do. 

           Kavinsky was still between him and the door. If he couldn’t get the psychics outside to safety, he was going to take the fight outside. 

           Ronan bundled up all of his strength and charged at Kavinsky head-on. 

           Ex-Nephilim or not, it was hard for the demon to stand his ground on the blood-soaked floor against a pissed off angel. 

           Ronan crashed into Kavinsky and pushed him back. He pushed him past the last of the rotting pews, past the blown out windows, and through the crooked doors of the church. With a painful heave, he shoved Kavinsky down the steps and into the one-lane dirt road in front of the church. 

           Then, they were fighting in the street. 

           Because of their bond, Ronan felt each blow whether the demon landed one or not. He could feel his energy slowly draining out of him along with his life blood.

           He doesn’t care that he’s hurting himself in the process of hurting Kavinsky. He’s too furious for that. 

_ “Ronan!” _ Adam shouted again. 

           Ronan delivered a blow to Kavinsky’s face so strong it knocked the demon down. It almost brought the angel to his knees as well, but he managed to stay standing.

            Adam was standing at the top of the rickety steps leading up to the church, the bloody angel sword in his hand. He was staring at Ronan with fear in his blue eyes, but he was taking care to keep the rest of his face carefully passive. 

            Ronan left Kavinsky in the street and strode up the steps toward Adam. His blood hand closed around Adam’s, simultaneously closing around the hilt of the sword. 

            He could see it on Adam’s face, the pain and acceptance about what was going to be done. Ronan reached up with his free hand and caressed Adam’s freckled cheek, leaving a smear of blood behind. 

           In this moment, it was only the two of them. 

           “Ronan,” Adam breathed. His breath caught, like the thought of what he was going to say was unbearable. 

           It probably was. 

           Ronan silenced his concerns with a had press of his mouth against Adam’s. He put everything he wanted to say in that kiss. He put in the apologies that were long overdue, the promise to keep him safe, thanks for making these last few months the best of his existence, and something else that needed to be said out loud. 

            Tears brimmed over in Adam’s eyes and dripped down his cheeks. He parted his lips to protest, but Ronan silenced him with the press of his thumb against them. 

It killed him to say, but it had to be said. He swallowed the lump in his throat and murmured, “I love you so fucking much.” 

           He turned his back to Adam, the gaping wounds gushing blood with every move he made. He tightened his grip on the sword and didn’t slow as he moved toward Kavinsky. 

           Kavinsky’s face was illuminated by the headlights of an ugly orange camaro. His mouth was bloody, his smile garish as he laughed. He truly looked like the monster he was. 

           Then, they were running at each other. 

           Ronan felt every inch of the sword as it buried into Kavinsky’s chest. His breath caught, taken by surprise at the pain. With one last mighty shove, he thrust the sword in the demon’s chest up to the hilt. 

           The wet, muddy ground rushed up to meet him. 

           The rain had stopped. 

           The last thing he saw was his own hand lying palm up in the mud, covered in blood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is titled from the song, 'The Mighty Fall' by Fall Out Boy.
> 
> And boy, does everything hurt.


	33. House of the Rising Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW!!!! You guys are seriously amazing! Thank you for all of the positive responses from the last chapter!

 

_ I love you so fucking much. _

           Those words were on replay in Adam’s mind. The feel of Ronan’s thumb against his cheek and the hard and desperate press of his lips were memories now. 

           He couldn’t tear his eyes from the angel’s body sprawled in the muddy street. 

           It had happened so fast. Ronan and Kavinsky had run at each other, vicious snarls ripping from their throats,  and Ronan had impaled the demon on the sword right down to the hilt. 

           Their bodies had hit the ground in a mess of blood and mud. Kavinsky’s body had disappeared into ash, carried away by the morning breeze. Ronan’s stayed where it was, in a pool of blood. 

             He stared at it, willing for him to twitch, for him to move, for him to do  _ something _ . The only sound he heard was the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. It was deafening. 

           “Adam,” Blue said slamming the door. She wasn’t looking at Ronan’s broken body lying face down in the mud. Her eyes were fixed on him, her face pale. 

           He hardly heard his name. His gut clenched, agonizingly painful. His mouth tasted like dirty pennies. 

           Adam hurled himself down the rickety porch steps and threw up in the overgrown weeds next to the church. There wasn’t much in his stomach. He threw up and when there was nothing left, he dry-heaved. When he sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth he felt empty, emotionally and physically. 

           Blue was standing between the Camaro and Adam, but she wasn’t looking at Adam anymore. She was looking at Ronan, her hands clamped over her mouth, her expression horrified. 

           “Christ,” Gansey breathed. He slumped against the hood of the Pig, like all of the strength and energy had been drained from him. The sight of his best friend dead on the dirt road was crushing him. “Jesus Christ…” 

           Adam hardly registered the warmth of Maura’s arm wrapping around his shoulders. He almost shrugged her off. Nothing would fix this. Nothing would bring him back. Ronan was dead. 

           “Is…” Blue trailed off, as if what she wanted to say was almost too unbearable to speak, as if this was a dream and saying it out loud would make it a reality. “Is he really…” 

           “Yes,” Adam replied. His voice was wrecked from throwing up, from grief, and from the lump that had wedged itself in his throat. He felt numb. “He had a bond with Kavinsky. The only way for them to break it was if one of them killed the other. It killed them both.”

           He felt odd. Like, he wasn’t there. He felt like he was somewhere else, watching all of this from somewhere else. 

_ Maybe there’s something wrong with me, _ he thought. He wasn’t crying, he wasn’t hysterical. He didn’t feel anything as he stared at Ronan’s unmoving body. He couldn’t think as he watched Ronan’s blood soak into the dirt. 

           Adam wordlessly stepped out of Maura’s embrace. His ratty work boots took him to Ronan’s body. He dropped to his knees next him. He felt the mud soak into the knees of his coveralls but he didn’t care. 

           He didn’t care about anything. There was nothing left of him to care with. 

           Nobody spoke.

           He was grateful. 

           He didn’t know what he would have said. There was nothing to say. Everything he should have said should have been said while Ronan was alive. There were so many things he should have told him and he hadn’t. Now, it was too late. 

           He stared at Ronan’s body. His eyes raked over his unmoving chest, the tattoo raking up the back of his neck, the bloody gouges in his back where his beautiful wings had once been, and the leather bracelets looped around his wrists. 

           He felt hollow. 

           Adam swallowed and ripped his gaze away from Ronan’s lifeless form. Instead, he stared at the dirt between them, wishing the deep-set ache in his chest would disappear. 

            He wished this was all a dream and he’d wake up from this terrible nightmare. 

* * *

 

           Light. 

           Blinding white light. 

           It took several seconds before his eyes adjusted to the violent light. 

           Ronan blinked and looked around. Was this real? Or was this some kind of sick joke? 

           Everything was sleek, modern, and there was a hell of a lot of white in this office. In fact, the only thing that wasn’t white was a golden desk with a golden chair behind it. It was blinding and impeccably modern. 

           Ronan picked himself off of the sterile floor and looked around. Was this really what happened when angels died? Was this where they went? 

           He’d been to Heaven. He’d spent eons there. He’d grown up there, trained there, and lived there for ages. This was not the Heaven he remembered. This was somewhere else. Maybe this was some sort of angelic limbo.

           “Sit, my son.” 

           He turned, and where there had been nobody before, there was a a man in an impeccably pressed white suit. 

           Ronan didn’t move. All he could do was stare at the man before him. 

           How was this real? 

           Ronan stared at the head of dark curls, the perfect nose, the bright blue eyes with smile lines at the corners. It was the face of the father that had been missing for so long. 

           “Sit,” he said again. 

           Ronan wanted to tell him there wasn’t a chair on this side of the desk, but in the same instant one appeared, shining silver. 

           He couldn’t tear his eyes off of his father as he eased down into the chair. He expected to hurt from the fight with Kavinsky, but he didn’t. 

           Ronan had never met his father before. He’d heard all kinds of stories about him from Declan, Michael, Hael, and a few other angels in the garrison. He couldn’t believe that this was God, that this was the father that he’d blindly worshipped. 

           “Are you really God?” He finally asked. 

           He hadn’t ever imagined meeting his father in a place like this. He was mildly annoyed that their first meeting was taking place in heavenly version of a stuffy corporate office.

           An amused smile tipped up at the older man’s lips. “I am,” he confirmed with a nod. 

           Ronan swallowed. Anxiously, he lifted his wrist to chew on his leather bracelets. He dropped his arm down to his side when he noticed they tasted like blood. Was he in trouble? He hadn’t exactly been the poster-child for angels everywhere. He’d broken multiple rules that angels had to follow. Surely, he was going to face the repercussions. “Am I here because of everything I’ve done? I’ve broken so many rules.”  _ Kavinsky, Adam, Kavinsky again, hiding from Declan and Michael... _ he listed them off in his head. 

           God laughed, it was the sound of thunder rolling across the open plains. “Ronan, all of my children make mistakes. Despite what some people believe, I’m capable of forgiveness. All you have to do is ask me for it.” 

           “I haven’t asked for forgiveness.” 

           “Do you want to?” 

           He considered the question. Did he want to be forgiven?  _ Yes. _ He wanted it. It wanted it more than anything. 

           He looked at his father, meeting the eyes that were such a similar color to his own. “What does it mean if I ask for it?” 

           “If you ask for absolution, I’ll give you a gift.” 

           He raised a brow at his father. It sounded too good to be true, a gift for asking to be purged of his sins. “A gift? For asking for forgiveness?” 

           “Not for that,” God corrected. “No, your gift would be for stopping what could have been the decimation of Earth. That’s a mighty feat, my son.” 

            He weighed his options carefully. The weight of the reality of what was being offered to him settled heavily on his shoulders. After a long pause he asked, “ _ any _ gift?” 

           “Of course.” 

           What did he want? He wanted Adam, Gansey, Blue, and Noah. He wanted to be mortal. He wanted it more than anything. 

           He swallowed, and inhaled a slow breath before exhaling. “Will you forgive me, father?”

           God smiled, it was the stars winking in the night sky. “Of course, my son. And please know that you will make mistakes in the future. Understand that I will forgive you for those sins as well.”

            For a moment, Ronan was a little blown away (and creeped out) that his father knew what he wanted before he had to ask. Then, he remembered that his father was God. Of course, he knew what he wanted. 

           “Yes, father.” 

           God stood up, so Ronan did too. 

He stared at the face of the man he adored for so long. He committed the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes, the tilt of his lips, the dimple in his chin, and his black curls to memory. Finally, he summoned the courage to ask him the question burning within him. “Why have I never met you before?” 

           His father just gave him a crooked smile and then snapped his fingers. 

           Ronan gasped in a breath that ripped him open from the neck down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it, Ronan and God (aka: Niall Lynch). 
> 
> This chapter is titled from the song 'The House of the Rising Sun' lyrics by the Animals.


	34. Forever Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH we're almost at the end!!!! This is the last chapter before the epilogue and I'm really kind of sad about it? Like, I mean, we've been through basically thirty-four chapters of hell together and it's almost time for us to part ways!
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for your positive responses on the last chapter. They seriously made my week! Hopefully, you enjoy this one just as much!

           His legs were cramping from sitting in the same spot for so long. The sun was burning off the dew of the night, making Adam sweat in his coveralls. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to get to his feet.

           They should do something. They should move Ronan’s body out of the middle of the muddy road. They should give him a proper burial. He’s not roadkill, he is... _ was _ an angel. 

           Adam didn’t have the heart or the strength to ask Gansey if he’d go get a shovel. The only thing he could do was just kneel, with his fingers buried in the wet clay of the road and stare at Ronan’s body without seeing anything at all. 

           A warm hand on his shoulder snapped Adam’s attention out of his head. 

           He flinched, but it was hardly a movement. It was just a twitch of his muscles beneath his skin, the way he’d learned to jump in fear when confronted with his father. Some things never went away. He turned his head and looked at Gansey. 

           His friend looked exhausted, the way he typically did after a sleepless night. But, he also looked  _ more _ than just tired. The weight of what happened seemed to settle on his soul. Gansey gave his shoulder a light squeeze. Silently, it said,  _ we should probably take care of this _ . 

           He swallowed, his mouth tasting like dirty pennies once again. “What are we supposed to do with him?” 

           Gansey exhaled softly. He looked to the women of Fox Way for any advice. 

           They just returned the look, as if they weren’t sure what to do from here either. 

           It wasn’t like they could call the cops. There was absolutely nothing about the night’s events that didn’t look like cult activity associated with murder. 

           Not only did Adam have to come up with a plan for Ronan’s body, but he was also trying to figure out what to do with the grief that had tangled his insides into knots and turned his thoughts into mush inside of his head. 

           He didn’t know what to do with the emotional detachment that consumed him. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to kick something, to yell, to smash things. He wanted to fold himself over his knees, bury his face in his muddy hands and cry until there was nothing left. 

           He wanted to search for answers. 

           He wanted to know why. Why had he let himself get so attached to someone? He’d dropped his guard for Ronan and now he was paying for it in ways that were more painful than any physical blow he’d ever endured. 

           Adam exhaled a shaky sigh and rose to his feet. He stared down at Ronan’s body, pale, lifeless, lying in a mess of red-brown mud. It hurt. 

           He knew Gansey had a shovel in the trunk of the Pig. They’d used it to dig in the mountains when Gansey had been looking for seventeenth century artifacts a few weeks ago. 

           “I’m going to get the shovel.” His drawl was evident, even to his own ears. He was too emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted to care.

           It took a lot of effort to pick his boots up and start that way. He turned toward the orange car, glistening in the bright sunlight, when he heard the sound of somebody sucking in air like a man who had been saved from drowning.  

           He whipped around and watched the unbelievable phenomena of Ronan Lynch being brought back to life. 

           He did it the way a diver broke the surface of the water. It was explosive, sudden, his submersion into life. Ronan sat up, his hand pressed to his chest, his blue eyes wide in disbelief and confusion. 

           Adam couldn’t move. He was fixed to the spot where he stood, half turned away from Ronan. His lips parted slightly as his mind struggled to process what he was seeing. 

           He’d been dead. His heart hadn’t been beating, his lungs hadn’t been breathing air. He hadn’t moved in almost two whole hours and now, he was sitting up feeling his heart beating against his palm. 

           Blue was the first one to speak, the first one to move. She took two steps away toward Ronan, out of the embrace of her mother’s arms. Her eyes were wide, like she couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. “Are you...are you really alive?”

           Ronan’s eyes were on his hands as he clenched and unclenched his fists experimentally. “I think so,” he finally said.

           “Good,” she said with a breath of relief, “because one ghost friend is enough.” 

           Gansey was moving. “You son of a bitch,” he said with awe instead of heat. He reached down and took Ronan’s hand and hauled him to his feet. “Jesus, you’re incredible. You know that, right?” 

           Adam still couldn’t make his feet move. How was Ronan here? How was he alive? What happened?

           Ronan’s reply was muffled by a firm embrace. He stepped back, his eyes flicked to the women of Fox Way and then back to Gansey. “Where’s Parrish?”

           How was he here?  _ How _ ? 

           Ronan’s gaze swiveled to Adam and he wasted no time closing the distance between them in several large strides. 

           Adam didn’t understand how Ronan was even vertical. The last time he’d seen him standing he’d lost a lot of blood. He should still be dead. But, he was an angel. Maybe the laws of death didn’t apply to him? He supposed that would explain why--

           His mental rant was cut off by a hot mouth on his and cool fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

           It was electric, fiery, and  _ real _ . 

           Ronan was alive. 

           Ronan was  _ alive _ ! 

           Relief flooded through him. Adam slung his arm over the back of Ronan’s neck and pulled him closer, afraid that this moment was going to slip between his fingers. 

           They parted, both of them breathless. 

           Adam didn’t step back. He stayed close to Ronan, his eyes taking in the fine stubble growing on his cheeks, the the brightness in his eyes, the smug upward curl of his mouth. “You’re alive,” he breathed. 

           “Very,” he replied. 

           “Your wings,” he said, “Kavinsky--” 

           “He cut them off. They’re gone. I don’t need them anymore.” He stepped back from Adam’s embrace enough to  look over his shoulder at the church, the front doors shattered open where Ronan and Kavinsky had barreled through it. “I’m fucking starving. I haven’t ever actually had to eat before and now I’m hungry. Let’s clean this mess up and get the hell out of here.” 

           Adam released Ronan and stared at him, baffled. “What do you  _ mean?  _ They’re your wings, Ronan. Of course you need them!”

           Ronan held up his arms so his friends could get a good look at him. “Actually, I don’t. I’m not an angel anymore. I’m mortal, like you.” He stalked to the Camaro and opened the trunk. “We’re going to the torch the church with my wings and that stupid fucking book inside of it.” 

           “ _ What? _ ” 

           “The last thing we need is for someone to find a pair of angel wings and The Book of the Damned.” 

           He had a good point. Adam couldn’t argue with that logic. 

           He watched as Ronan took the can of gasoline Gansey took habit to carrying around and headed inside. Adam followed him just inside the doorway. 

           Ronan dumped gasoline along the rotting floorboards, up the walls, over his once beautiful wings and the book. He tossed the gas can aside without care and then kicked over one of the candles Adam, Maura, and Calla had used when they’d cast their circle. 

           The wood caught, the flames eating up the gasoline as they sped towards the book. It caught. The human skin binding the cover crackled and popped, but ultimately went up in flames. 

           The wings caught next. The black feathers curled and smoked, withering away as the fire consumed them. 

           Satisfied with the way the entire church was burning, Ronan gave a nod to his wings once, bidding his past life farewell. Then, he took Adam’s hand and guided them out of the smoldering church. 

           They all stood across the road as they watched the church burn. 

           None of them spoke. It felt wrong. 

           Finally, the question that had been nagging at the back of Adam’s mind slipped out. “How did you become mortal?” He asked, looking at Ronan. 

           “I talked to my old man. He swung a favor my way.” 

           “Your old man...your  _ dad _ ?” 

           “Yeah,” he said with a shrug. 

           Adam had a million more questions, but he didn’t get the chance to ask them. 

           “Listen, if I don’t eat something soon I’m going to die again. Let’s get the hell out of here before the fire department shows up.” 

           The ride back was anything but comfortable in the Camaro. It wasn’t made to sit six people, but somehow they managed to all fit. It was a jumble of arms, legs, and bodies pressed together in the unseasonably too-warm morning air. The Pig’s intermittent air conditioning was anything but helpful. 

           Adam sat behind the passenger seat, with Calla between him and Maura. Blue sat sprawled across the three of their laps. 

           Ronan sat in the passenger seat. In order to have room for his legs in the front, the back of the seat had to be far enough back that it dug into Adam’s knees. It didn’t help that every now and again he pressed his back into the seat. “This is the first time in a years that this hasn’t hurt.” 

           The scars were still on his back, Adam could see them peeking out from beneath the edges of Ronan’s tank. The ex-angel had shed his jacket, complaining of the warmth, and it sat in his lap instead. 

           He expected the scars to be jagged and open from where Kavinsky had cut his wings off, but they weren’t. They were two fully healed scars. 

           They dropped Maura and Calla of at 300 Fox Way. Thankfully, it gave Adam and Blue the room they needed to be able to sit comfortably  _ without  _ elbowing each other in the face. 

           Even though it was early, they went to Nino’s. Blue was able to convince the cook to make them pizza, even if it was the gross kind Gansey liked with avocado on it. 

            Once they ate their fill and Ronan swore he was going to throw up from eating so much, Gansey dropped him off at his apartment. 

           Adam walked with him to the door. 

           They kissed once, twice, and three times. 

           “I still can’t believe you’re alive,” Adam said as he looked up at Ronan. “How did it happen?” 

           “When I saw my dad, he told me he forgave me for everything that I’ve done to fuck up my life as an angel. For stopping Kavinsky, he decided to give me a gift. He told me I could have anything I wanted.” 

           “And you chose this. Why? You were  _ immortal _ . You could have lived for eons until the world ended. Why would you pick this?” 

           Ronan’s fingers ghosted over Adam’s. “I was tired of being an angel. I was tired of living by their rules, of watching people come and go while I lived in immortality, I was tired of not being able to love.” 

           Adam couldn’t help but smile. That last part was endearing. He couldn’t stop himself as he leaned in and kissed Ronan again, softly. He pulled back and looked up at them. “About earlier, you know, before you died?” He almost didn’t say it. He was afraid to. For so long, Adam thought he’d been incapable of love. Now, he knew he’d been wrong. “I love you too.” 

           Pink tinged Ronan’s ears.

           “I should go. Gansey’s waiting on me.” Adam turned to leave, but Ronan stopped him with his fingers around his wrist. 

           The dark haired man lifted Adam’s knuckles to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. “Stay with me.”

           Adam smiled. He couldn’t help it. For the first time in what seemed like forever, his heart finally felt full. “Okay. I will.” 

           So, he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll see you all next week for the epilogue and the conclusion of this story! 
> 
> This chapter title is from the song 'Immortals' by Fall Out Boy


	35. It's a Hell of a Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this epilogue has got me right in the feels. I don't know if it's because we're finishing up a thirty-five chapter journey this morning or if it's just the right about of sweetness that I needed to day (although, my guess is it's the former). This is so bitter sweet!
> 
> I'd like to thank you all for hanging tough and bearing with me! Thank you all for leaving kudos/comments and just simply taking the time to give this AU a try! You're all incredibly wonderful!
> 
> A extra-special thanks goes out to music-booksrlife (on tumblr) and ChessPargeter (here on AO3)/rororonanlynch (on tumblr). Without them, this story would not be possible! They were literally the best support system I could have ever asked for!
> 
> Without further ado, here is the epilogue.

            Life as a mortal was surprisingly faster than it had been as an angel.

            Maybe it was because he each passing day was precious, like the second hand on a clock ticking away and counting down until the batteries died forever. 

            Maybe it was because for the first time in a long time he finally felt like he  _ belonged _ somewhere. He was no longer an angelic outcast, looking up to Heaven and wishing to be there. He was no longer not-quite-human, wanting to be fit in with them, to belong somewhere. 

            It had been six months since he’d fought Kavinsky and died. It’d been six months since he’d been brought back to life as a mortal man. It had been six months since he’d torched the church and his past along with it. 

            It had been the best six months of his life. 

            Ronan studied the way the early morning sun highlighted Adam’s fine cheekbones. His eyes greedily drank in every freckle, every eyelash, and the soft part of his lips as he breathed deeply in his sleep. 

            He had to be the luckiest human alive. 

            Adam stirred under Ronan’s intense gaze. “You’re staring at me,” he mumbled with his sleep-worn voice. 

           "Yeah.” 

            The blond stretched under the blankets and rolled over. He opened his blue eyes and studied Ronan with a slightly amused look. 

            “What?” 

            He sat up and looked at Ronan, his eyes bright, his youthful face alive. He reached out and pulled the ex-angel closer. “If you’re going to stare at my lips you might as well kiss them.” 

            Ronan smirked and let Adam close the distance between them. He draped his arm around Adam and laid back, shifting them so Adam was leaning over him. 

            His lips were warm and firm. His kisses tasted like his mint toothpaste and left Ronan burning from head to toe. 

            Adam settled himself, with a knee at each side of Ronan’s waist. Their kisses grew in intensity, his long fingers digging into the tattooed skin of his back, their bodies pressing together hungrily. 

            “Fuck,” Ronan breathed, their lips parted for just a moment. 

            The other man swallowed the expletive with a soft nip of his teeth against Ronan’s lip. 

            The ex-angel shuddered, his fingers finding Adam’s hips. 

            Adam’s hand pushed Ronan’s tank top up, pulling it off and casting it aside before he attacked Ronan’s jaw, neck, and collarbone with his lips.

            Christ, the things that guy could do… It hadn’t taken Ronan long to learn that Adam was just experienced with his mouth as he was with his hands. 

            Waking up as a mortal wasn’t so bad when he had this to wake up to every morning. 

            Adam’s fingers were hooked in the waistband of Ronan’s boxers when he heard a drawer open in the kitchen. 

            “Fuck,” Ronan swore. “Opal’s going to eat the silverware again.” He moved to sit up, but Adam pushed him back down with a firm shove.

            Sometimes, it was easy for Ronan to forget how strong Adam was. He was thin, but it was a lot of lean muscle from working and riding that stupid fucking bike everywhere. 

            “She won’t,” Adam said. His lips lifted just a breath off of Ronan’s skin when he spoke. He returned to nipping at the sensitive spot at his hip for just a moment before he added, “I took the silverware out of the drawer and put it on top of the fridge last night where she couldn’t reach it.” 

            Ronan couldn’t help but arch his back into Adam’s touch. His fingers tangled in his dusty hair. “Christ, you’re incredible.” 

            He meant it in more than one way than one. 

            Adam was smart, thoughtful, loyal, and hard working. He knew just what to do and say to make Ronan feel better when he was feeling particularly cynic. His humanness was a good counterbalance to Ronan’s abrasive ex-angelic nature. 

            Adam grinned up at him and kissed him once more, his lips hard and wanting while his talented hand found its way to the desperate part of Ronan. 

            The ex-angel saw stars. 

            “Holy fuck,” he growled against Adam’s mouth. 

            “If you think this is good, just wait.” 

            Ronan’s heart stuttered in his chest. He chased Adam’s mouth as his boyfriend pulled away. He let a firm hand on his chest press him back into the mattress. He couldn’t do anything but watch as Adam’s head disappeared below the covers. A moment later, his lips took the place of his hand. 

            Ronan wasn’t entirely certain that he hadn’t died again. 

* * *

 

            It was hot enough that the asphalt put off waves of heat. 

            Ronan was starting to despise the sun. He learned not too long ago that if he stayed out for too long his skin turned red and even blistered. It was something that had never happened to him when he’d had angelic grace running through his veins. Adam told him it was called a ‘sunburn’. 

            He hated it. 

            He hated the way it made his skin hurt, itch, and later peel. 

            He couldn’t believe mortals had been putting up with this bullshit since the dawn of time. 

            He watched as Adam came out of the gas station with two bottles of Coca-Cola.

            Ronan took a minute to admire the way his arms looked in the cut-off t-shirt he’d borrowed from the ex-angel earlier that day. His eyes drank in the tanned skin of Adam’s freckling shoulders, envious of the way his skin turned golden instead of bright red. 

            Adam stilled at the nose of the BMW, his eyes on something behind the car. 

            Ronan’s brow furrowed and he adjusted the mirror so he could see behind him. 

            He felt his heart stop. 

            Two angels were standing behind his car. One was well-dressed, perfectly groomed and proper, the way the Archangels wanted him to be. Everything about him from his posture to his meticulously styled hair was a sharp contrast to his golden haired, smiling companion. 

            Ronan got out of the car, unable to take his eyes off of his brothers. 

            Matthew was the first one to break the silence between them. “ _ Ronan _ !” He exclaimed, moving forward to bump fists with his older brother. “It’s been over a  _ century _ since I’ve seen you!” 

            Ronan couldn’t help but grin at his younger brother and throw an arm around his neck. He rubbed his fist into his curls playfully. “Tell me about it, shithead!” 

            Matthew laughed and ducked out from beneath Ronan’s arm. “I wanted to help shut the gate to Hell that Kavinsky opened, but Declan wouldn’t let me. He says I’m not quite ready yet.” 

            The ex-angel looked to his older brother and gave Declan a slight nod of appreciation. Matthew was too good and too pure to get involved in the mess between Heaven and Hell. He was better suited as guardian angel instead of a warrior. 

            “Is it true that you met dad?” 

            “Yeah, it’s true.” 

            “What was he like?” 

            Ronan hesitated in answering. Ever since he’d been brought back to life, the memories of his time with God were growing hazy. “He was...all-knowing.” 

            “ _ Lame _ . Come on! You have to give me more than that!” 

            Ronan couldn’t give him more than that. The memory was like water slipping between his cupped hands. So, he settled for a subject change. “Matthew, Declan, this is my boyfriend. His name is Adam.” 

             Adam’s ears were pink and Ronan didn’t think it had anything to do with the sun. It was more than likely that he was embarrassed to be caught meeting two angels in a ratty sleeveless shirt and jeans that had been stained from wear. Still, he was polite when he shook their hands. “Nice to meet you,” he said in a charming voice that he’d learned from Gansey. 

            Declan’s cool gaze took Adam in from head to toe. 

            Ronan tensed, waiting to hear his brother say something dickish about him. 

            It didn’t come. Instead, Adam set the bottles of soda on the hood of the car and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I, uh, forgot something inside. I’m going to go...grab it.” 

            Three pairs of blue eyes watched him turn and make his way back into the gas station. 

            Ronan turned his attention back to his brothers. “What are you guys doing here?” 

            “Declan wanted to come and see you!” Matthew exclaimed. 

            He raised a brow in the direction of his older brother. This news was...interesting. Declan hardly ever came to see him bearing good news. Since Ronan was no longer an angel, he wondered what news he came wielding now. 

            For the first time in a millenia, Declan looked a little uncomfortable. He shifted from foot to foot. “Listen,” he said finally, “I just wanted to let you know that I’m proud of you.” 

            Ronan was so shocked he almost fell down. Yet, he couldn’t move or speak. 

            “You may not have closed the entrance to Hell, but you did something that was far more incredible. You stopped the end of the  _ world _ . You managed to prevent a war between Heaven and Hell. For that, I’m damned proud to be your brother.” 

            He wished he knew what to say. 

            For well over a century, he’d been the family fuck up. He’d fallen in love with a Nephilim, been cast out of Heaven, been Fallen, and ended up falling in love with Adam. He’d made some really bad choices and now his brother was telling him he was  _ proud  _ of him. 

            “Thanks,” he finally managed. 

            Adam was hanging around the entrance of the store, a package of gummy worms in his hands. It was obvious that the psychic was giving Ronan time alone with his brothers. 

            “We should get going,” Declan said, following Ronan’s gaze. He looked at his younger brother. “I just wanted to tell you that.” 

             Matthew hugged Ronan, earning himself another head rub. Then, when he stepped back to Declan’s side, the two of them vanished with the sound of unfurling wings. 

* * *

 

            They’d learned from the morning that Ronan had died and then undied, that four people could fit in the backseat of the Pig, even if it was a tight squeeze. 

            Ronan was crammed between Adam and Noah, with Henry pressed up against the window behind Gansey. 

            They had no particular destination in mind and they were all in high spirits. Classes at Aglionby College were out for the summer, the night air was just the right temperature, and the stars were shining overhead. 

            “Stand on it, Gansey!” Noah crowed at a red light. “Do a burnout!” 

            “Come on, grandpa!” Ronan exclaimed, with a grin, “do it!” 

            Gansey’s grin was youthful and mischievous. He put the Camaro in gear and stomped on the gas, but held in the clutch. 

            The tires beneath the orange beast squealed and smoked, before it rocketed forward. 

            “Go do doughnuts in the parking lot at the Stop ‘n Shop!” 

            It was a good thing that Henrietta was a ghost town in the summer months and the town cop was busy drinking a pint of beer with his friends, because they did do doughnuts in the parking lot. 

            Even Blue, who had chastised Gansey for entertaining the idea earlier was shrieking with glee as she clutched at the dashboard. 

            And despite his dubious warnings of nausea, Henry didn’t get car sick. 

_             This _ , Ronan thought,  _ is what it’s like to feel young, dumb, and  _ **_alive_ ** . 

            Once the novelty of leaving tire marks on pavement wore out, the five six of them found themselves in an overgrown hay field on the outskirts of town. Wherever they waded, fireflies swarmed up around them. 

            They spent their time soaking in the night, catching the iridescent bugs. They laughed, they ran, they played, they were free. 

            For the first time since he could remember, Ronan couldn’t shake the feeling of  _ rightness _ that settled deep into his soul. He made the right choice in asking his father to make him mortal. 

            Ronan closed his fingers around a firefly. He opened it and watched the bug crawl up his palm and towards his fingers before it took flight once more. 

            Blue shrieked with laughter as as she watched a firefly crawl up Gansey’s cheek. 

            Gansey laughed too, it was a youthful sound. When the bug flew away he reached out and pulled Blue to him. “Come here, Jane!” Then, he kissed gently and sweetly. 

            Ronan felt like was intruding on an intimate moment, so he looked away. Instead of watching them, he settled for staring out over the rolling field. 

            Adam came up and stood next to Ronan. For a long time, neither of them spoke. They just stared out at the stars and the acres of hay before them. 

_             Yes _ , Ronan thought,  _ this is where I belong _ . 

            “I had a dream last night,” Adam finally said. 

            Ronan knew that when he started a sentence with that, it was probably a dream of the psychic variety. He looked at Adam and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. 

            “It was about me being an old soul,” he continued. He reached out and plucked the head off of one of the stalks of hay. He ran his thumb over its bristly edge while he gathered his thoughts. “I don’t remember much about the dream. All I know is that I’m not going to be reborn again. This is going to be my last life.” 

            “Maybe it’s because you have me. Maybe that was your purpose,” Ronan said mockingly.

            Adam laughed, it was just a soft breath. He closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’d like to think that,” he said once they parted, “but I know it’s because I found the Book of the Damned. That was my purpose all along.” 

            “Psh, please.” 

            Adam smiled at him and dropped the piece of hay in exchange for reaching out and catching a firefly. He studied it, his lips still turned upward. 

            “Are we going to grow old together?” Ronan asked. He was only partially teasing. A part of him was worried Adam would say no. The ex-angel had made a lot of decisions, but falling in love with Adam hadn’t been one of them. 

            Adam shook his hand so the bug flew away. “Not if you don’t stop leaving your dirty socks everywhere.” 

            “Shut up.” 

            Still, Ronan’s hands found his waist and pulled him in for another kiss, his heart swelling up with love; love for Adam, love for his friends, and love for this stupid one-horse town. 

            For as fucked up as everything had been in the past, this was pretty damn near perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is titled after the song 'Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time' by Panic! at the Disco. 
> 
> Don't forget that each chapter is titled after a song that I listened to while writing this fic, leaving us with a Holy Hell playlist if you so choose to look them up!


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